


Really, Derek Hale?

by relenafanel



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Derek and Allison are Siblings, Derek as the Darcy character, F/M, Heartbreak, Lizzie Bennet Diaries - Freeform, M/M, Misunderstandings, Pining, Social Anxiety, Stiles runs a popular vlog, Temporarily Unrequited Love, horror movies as a bonding point, pride and prejudice - Freeform, video blogging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-12
Updated: 2015-08-18
Packaged: 2018-01-08 12:45:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 47,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1132811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/relenafanel/pseuds/relenafanel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek loves his sisters, so when Allison expresses the need to visit her family home in Beacon Hills years after the death of her parents, Derek agrees.  It's the perfect setting for him to work on the storyboard for Lycaon Production's newest horror movie.  It also happens to be the hometown of one of the most popular horror movie vloggers.  </p><p>Stiles' Horror Picture Blog just might be the inspiration he needs to put Lycaon back on the big screen.  He doesn't expect Stiles himself to become his inspiration.</p><p>And he certainly doesn't expect Stiles' antagonistic treatment of him in return, even if he understands how it happened.  Derek has never been very good at <i>people</i>, and he has no idea how to make it right when everything he tries just makes Stiles' opinion of him worse.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>  <b>A Pride and Prejudice / Lizzie Bennet Diaries fusion fic from the Darcy character's POV.</b></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Episode 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to _Really, Derek Hale?,_ the P &P/Lizzie Bennet Diaries fusion fic I started for Failwolf Friday almost a year ago. Many of you are familiar with the serial version of the story on my tumblr. Are there changes to this version? I know you're all wondering. In the first episode alone I almost doubled the word count, so you might find it worth reading again.
> 
> For those of you who are new, imagine the story from Darcy's POV and with Derek's past. Ouch, right? This story goes through a lot of misunderstandings and angst before the happy ending. The purists among you will find that I've removed a few storylines and characters, specifically Mr. Collins. 
> 
> For those of you who don't like Pride and Prejudice, the story can stand on its own without the source material... give it a chapter or two, if Derek completely failing at love is something that interests you.

Honestly, the truth of the matter was that all Derek wanted in life was a closed off room, an internet connection, and a little spark of inspiration.  It had been a long, long time since he had wanted anything more, a girlfriend (or, to be honest – a boyfriend) didn’t even enter on his list of requirements, because that would mean interacting with _people_.  It was a good day when Derek even managed to leave the house.

Or possibly a bad day when he was forced to leave the house, he never really knew which kind of day it would be until he was living it.

Beacon Hills was a terrible small town –  relative to the city of Los Angeles, not to the smaller towns that dotted the coastal area of Northern California leading into Oregon.  It was the kind of place where new faces stuck out and if you planned to stay for more than a few days, your business was everyone’s business.

Derek hated it there.

The decision to relocate, a semi-permanent vacation until Derek finished (or started) the storyboard for his unnamed movie was made by the three of them.  Allison had fond memories of the place, and it had been so long since she allowed herself to remember the good things, that Derek had been unable to say no to her.  He could almost remember the place himself.  He knew the Argents had given his family a standing invitation, and he could remember his parents talking about the possibility of going up for a long weekend, but either the town and the house itself had left little to no impression on Derek, or he had never been there, because he knew the moment they arrived that he didn’t have any real memories of the place.

“You never know,” Laura said.  “You might find inspiration in the coniferous trees and the fresh Pacific coast air.”

“I’m not going to find inspiration in Beacon Hills.”

That was true.  What Derek found instead was a bunch of locals who watched his every move once they realized that he was the third of the three people who moved into the Argent summer home. He couldn’t leave the house without eyes following him and whispers cropping up from behind shielding hands.  Women giggled, men sized him up, and if he had to listen to one more veiled reference to threesomes, he was going to storm out of the grocery store.

“It’s not really that bad,” Allison informed him fondly, but he could tell that she thought it was amusing.

It just gave Derek another reason not the leave the house.  His work was his life, no matter how slowly it was progressing.  He hated to admit it to the girls, but Beacon Hills was actually the perfect place to be if one was attempting to work through the script of a new werewolf movie.  It had a certain ambience and charm that fit the characters, and it gave him what he needed – a room of his own, an internet connection, and a spark of inspiration.

Inspiration had actually hit him before their long drive up, since none of them really felt comfortable travelling by airplane and they all agreed it would be nice to have both their cars available.  By the time they drove past the quaint _Welcome to Beacon Hills_ sign, Derek was already scribbling notes in a notebook he was forced to purchase at a gas station, Allison looking inordinately pleased with herself that she was not only right that the change of pace would help his creativity, but that she was able to spend five hours driving his car without Derek scowling at her for taking corners too sharply or for edging too close to the white line.

He supposed in a round-about way, she deserved to feel smug, despite the fact that things had been percolating in his mind for a few days.

Allison swore up and down that the town was the perfect setting for his movie, describing a vast forest any kind of supernatural creature would love to get lost in.  The spark of inspiration came when, in a fit of boredom brought on by staring at the street for an hour from his office in Los Angeles days before they left, unable to picture the familiar scene of his main character transforming in an imaginary forest, he Googled ‘Beacon Hills horror movie’ to make sure no one else had looked at the supposed idyllic view and saw the same potential Allison had described.

Beacon Hills was where Derek found his inspiration, but it wasn’t in the scenery or the relaxation or the vaguely small-town-sacrificial-murder-conspiracy vibe Beacon Hills presented towards tourists.

It was in a YouTube Video Blog.

Derek was marginally confident that he’d be able to live in Beacon Hills in relative anonymity.  One needed to leave the house for the town of Beacon Hills to really learn anything about him other than speculation, and Derek rarely went into the town.  In the few days since they arrived, he’d gotten evading the townsfolk down to an art form.

All thanks to his dedication to watching a teenage boy – early twenties at the most – chat about horror movies on the internet.

Yeah, he wasn’t sure if that really showed him in a positive light or not.

Unfortunately, there was nothing he could do if the townsfolk came to the house.

The concept of house calls baffled him.  Why would anyone take the time to bake a plate of cookies and come all the way out to the house with them, just to say hello.

“Derek!” Allison said from the couch as he wandered through the living room in search of the kitchen.  It wasn’t like he couldn’t find the kitchen, the house wasn’t that big.  He had forgotten which door the downstairs bathroom was behind.  Twice.  But in his defense, all the closed doors looked the same.

Derek was ready to respond to her when he noticed she was sitting with someone.  This was the second time it had happened.  The first, a woman named Mrs. Long, was exactly the reason Derek had stopped going down to the kitchen unless it was an emergency.  The woman could talk.

And Derek kind of understood the house call thing:  Gossip.

Maybe he should surround the ambiance of his movie with how terrifying small towns were.

“Come meet Sheriff Stilinski,” Laura said, her tone telling him that he couldn’t find a way out of this one.  It seemed a little unfair to Derek, because he hadn’t been able to find a way out of the conversation with Mrs. Long, either, and the woman could _talk_.

“I suppose I’m not the first visitor you’ve had,” the Sheriff said in an amused tone, looking between the two of them.  “I can hazard a guess of what the last few days have been like.  Consider me the official welcoming committee.  I have the garbage pick-up schedule as well as some FAQ and contact information you may need around the town,” he continued, handing Derek a cheap plastic portfolio folder.

“I didn’t realize that was the duty of the Sheriff Department,” Derek said, wincing as Laura kicked his chin.

“It’s not,” the man answered, rubbing the back of his head in a sheepish gesture.  “I’ll let the three of you in on a secret.  If you think Mrs. Long is bad, you should meet my deputies and my kid.  Well… kids.  That brings me to my other order of business…”

“Let’s get a move on,” Laura said, tapping impatiently on the doorframe of his office, her fingernail against the wood a quick tattoo of requesting entry into his inner sanctum that both of them ignored.  Him in an attempt to deny her entry and her the social constructs of a door being to keep privacy.

“I’m not finished here,” he told her, pausing the video on his screen.

“Derek,” she voiced, picking up one of the strange office décor pieces the interior decorator had placed in his office.  He thought it might be a globe.  Or an astrolabe.  Possibly a paperweight?

Derek spun on his office chair and dug through the drawer behind him for a pair of headphones.  He jabbed the plug into the jack with an angry look in her direction, attempting to get a little privacy.

“Derek, we can’t be late,” Laura said, smoothing out the material of her dress.

_And, like, I get the point of the video was supposed to be horror or something, but when I think of the horror genre in general, I expect to be scared.  The scariest thing in this movie was the exposition._

“To a wedding, Derek,” Laura said pointedly, giving him a meaningful tilt of her head, eyes conveying a promise to do him bodily harm if they arrived after the bride.

_…and I realize complaining about exposition on my vlog is at best an oxymoron…_

“Jesus how old is that kid?” Laura said over his shoulder, standing close enough to look over his shoulder.  “Is this some kind of weird porn?”

“Unlike you, I have standards of how I spend my afternoon,” Derek responded, his voice sounding strangely muffled through the headphones.  “This is work.”

“Work,” Laura snorted.  “We’re going to be late for the wedding because of this work. And not just a wedding.  _The Sheriff’s wedding._ ”

 _On a more personal note.._. Stiles started to say, and Derek perked up, because while he enjoyed hearing Stiles’ opinion on horror movies, he had started to pay more attention to the personal facts Stiles occasionally inserted into his vlog.  The move to Beacon Hills had consumed his time for the last week, and he was fifty seconds away from being caught up on the newest episode.

Laura grabbed the headphones off his head and Derek moved to pause the video stream before she could hear Stiles talk about the cute guy in his class or his best friend’s lonely lack of a love life.  Instead, she gave him a sarcastic look of suspect, as though she knew he was lying just because she was his sister and knew these things. 

Derek hated it when Laura did that.  Mostly because she had an annoying habit of being right.  “This ‘kid’ has one of the most respected video blogs dissecting horror movies on the internet.  I found it through a simple web search, that’s how popular it is, and it’s educational to learn what the target audience actually pays attention to.”

He didn’t need to mention that the search terms had been ‘Beacon Hills’.

“Ok,” Laura said, moving away.

Heh, that was easier than it should be.  He looked at her and she was observing him back evenly. 

“Come on Derek, I know how seriously you’re taking this whole thing. I’m not going to bust your chops over it unless you make us late for the wedding.  Come on, Allison is waiting in the car.”

Derek raised a sarcastic eyebrow at ‘bust your chops.’  “Fine,” he said, closing his laptop and adjusting his tie as he stood.

But he didn’t have to go happily.

“You should dance,” Laura urged, nodding as Allison took to the floor with a guy around her age wearing a blazer that had a seam unraveling on the shoulder.  Derek was not a fashion maven and didn’t care if the guy was wearing Gucci or thrifted Gap, but he was fastidious, and the fact that someone would wear an item of clothing that was torn to a wedding really bothered him.

Especially since the guy had been identified as one of the Sheriff’s sons.  Derek had yet to meet the other one, but he had low expectations.

“Oh god, you’re focusing on the seam, aren’t you?” Laura guessed. 

“It’s disrespectful,” Derek sneered.

“Come on, I’ve heard about life in these little towns,” Laura answered.  “Most of these people don’t have reason to dress up in nice clothing.  Owning a suit isn’t even a requirement and they can’t be held to our level of consideration.  That kid probably had to borrow his jacket from a relative or a friend.  You know what happens when you rely on relatives or friends, don’t you?”

Anyone who didn’t know his sister would think Laura was making fun of the townsfolk of Beacon Hills, but Derek knew his sister better than that.  Laura was taking part in her number one favourite pastime, which was making fun of him. He was well aware of how it would sound to outsiders. Derek looked around subtly for someone with a shank or a butterknife, or given the state of small-town America, someone with a gun.  Not finding an immediate threat, or anyone who even looked like they overheard, Derek relaxed.  It wasn’t that he was frightened of people from small towns, or people of lesser socioeconomic means, or Americans.  He was frightened of people.  Just a little bit.  Laura said it was agoraphobia.

Derek just thought that human nature was the true horror story out there.

Besides, the proper term was anthropophobia and Derek didn’t suffer from that.  But when he informed Laura, she simply patted his shoulder and said ‘no dear, you’re just shy’ in her most condescending tone.

Laura was terrible.  Derek wasn’t shy.  Derek just didn’t enjoy crowds of people he had nothing in common with, especially when all the attention was on him, like it invariably was since he, Laura and Allison were the new people in town, taking up in the big house on the outskirts of Beacon Hills.  It had been in the Argent family for generations, but Allison hadn’t relished the idea of being in Beacon Hills on her own and Laura had volunteered to stay with her best friend and adopted sister. 

So, with all eyes watching him curiously, Derek was tenser than usual.

“How about Scott’s brother?” Laura asked.  “I hear he wouldn’t be averse to dancing with a guy.”

“Scott?”

Laura sighed.  “Allison’s dance partner,” she prompted, annoyed.  “I might be tempted myself if you don’t scoop him up.”

“I’m not tempted. That doesn't sound tolerable,” Derek informed her meaningfully, trying to convey with his eyes how stifling the room was starting to get.  “Certainly not Scott’s brother, and certainly not out on the dance floor, where all the air in the room is being drawn into the lungs of people doing… what is that?”  Derek reached up to touch his tie, stopping himself from loosening it through sheer will.  Other people who didn’t have a public reputation to uphold might be allowed to loosen their ties in a situation like this, but Derek was always aware of the fact people were watching him. 

“The Chicken Dance,” Laura told him with distraction as her hand came up to rest on his shoulders.  “Derek, are you…?”

“I need to go,” he told her.  “Excuse me.”

Air helped, Derek realized once he got outside, clearing out the heavy weight that had settled like a rubber band tightening around his chest.  He hadn’t been aware of how difficult it had been until he removed himself from the situation. 

“Derek!” Allison exclaimed, bursting through the same break in the decorative hedge that Derek had slipped through.  The branches snagged on the delicate material of her dress, but she simply laughed as she pulled herself free.  Being back in her family home had been tough on her, and Derek was suddenly fiercely glad that this outing had put a bit of colour back in her cheeks.  “I’m so glad I found you.  Come on, there’s someone I want you to meet.  He thought you were sexy and he likes horror movies, so you have a lot in common.”

“A lot of people like horror movies,” Derek pointed out. And a lot of people found him sexy.  It wasn’t exactly a ringing endorsement.

“He’s Scott’s friend, and sibling I guess.  Like how we’re siblings.  Come on, I think you’d really, really like him…”

“I think I’m going to go home.  I’ll leave you and Laura the car.”

“You’re going to walk?” She asked with concern, looking back at the party uncertainly.  “Was it that bad? I can come with you.”

“No, have fun,” he told her, leaning over and pressing his mouth against the top of her head.  ”The air will help.”

“Ok, big bro, enjoy your evening constitutional,” she replied in a teasing tone.

That was right, sometimes he saw Allison more as his younger sister than Laura, probably because Laura needled and mocked him and Allison allowed him to pretend he was useful. That was why Allison was his favourite. “What do you know about this Scott character?”

“Go home to your computer,” Allison bossed.  “You have your soulmate and now I have mine.”

Derek’s mouth turned down, but Allison just laughed and slipped back through the hedge, immediately consumed by the crowd of the party.

Maybe Allison wasn’t his favourite.

It looked like the whole town showed up, and Beacon Hills was not somewhere Derek belonged.  He had another fifty seconds of Stiles’ most recent video to watch, a more comforting thought to keep him company on the long walk home.  By the time he arrived, Stiles had posted a new video, and Derek clicked on it eagerly, watching as Stiles’ face filled up his computer screen.

And as always, he was 100% right about the horror movie he was dissecting this time, even if he seemed a bit distracted, leg bouncing as he spoke.  It wasn’t until the last minute that things fell sideways, right out from beneath Derek.

 _So I’m at this party, ok? Have I set the scene yet? It wasn’t some kind of kegger rager party - not that I go to those._  Stiles winked. _It was more of a ‘the whole town is here’ kind of vibe. A wedding, specifically, THE WEDDING, but still more of a town affair.  Have I emphasized enough that most of the town was there?_

Derek froze, looking at Stiles’ face on the screen.  He was still wearing an open blazer over a white shirt, but Derek couldn’t remember seeing him at the party at all _._

_So I’m at this party and these kind of well-known siblings are there. Well known because they’re new to town and stick out like a sore thumb and everyone is talking about them. It’s disgusting the way people gossip about them. So the hot and terrifying sibling approaches the hot and broody-type sibling and is like “hey bro, you should be dancing” with this frightfully direct gaze.  Like, you know she’s not making a suggestion.  And her bro was like “who here is even tolerable? That guy?” AND THEN POINTED DIRECTLY AT ME WHILE SNORTING IN DERISION._

_Really, Derek Hale? REALLY?_ Stiles asked, directly facing the camera, smiling this false grin that made Derek’s insides curl into fetal position.

_To paraphrase Jane Austen: It is a truth universally acknowledged that an asshole in possession of a fortune is a rich asshole._

_At least Scott had fun._

“Shit,” Derek said.


	2. Episode 2

 

_“Therianthrope_ ,” Derek muttered to himself, writing the word in the margin of the script before he forgot it.  Stiles was paused on his screen, the third time he’d watched the newest video.  He could see the subtle differences in Stiles’ demeanor now, noticed that most of the video had been recorded before the wedding.  It was the rant about him that had been filmed after, when Stiles looked tired and a little mussed, his clothes drooping from activity.  Now that he knew who Stiles was, he could appreciate the work ethic Stiles must have to manage to fit in his regular update around his father’s wedding.  He wasn’t sure how he felt about the fact that his behaviour at the wedding had enough impact on Stiles that he’d felt the need to record the rant and blog it, though.

 _I find it really clever when movie titles in a series revolve around a theme. I understand why the number two is inserted to help the public, but I kind of lack all respect for movies that just shove it at the end of the title of the first movie for a sequel: Saw 2, I’m looking at you_ , Stiles said directly at the camera, as though directly calling out whoever made that decision.

And Derek just… hit the spacebar to pause Stiles, because Lycaon Productions, once upon a time, had always followed a particular theme, and even if they hadn’t been using the same formula in the past few years, Derek wanted to start again.  New wasn’t always better.  “ _Theriantrope_ ,” he said again, more confidently, testing out the shape of the word on his tongue.

Sometimes Derek just needed someone to reiterate what he was thinking, to agree with things he never vocalized.

And Stiles did that with such brutal honesty that he was impossible to ignore.

As much as it pained Derek to watch Stiles’ vlogs after the very public _Really, Derek Hale? Really?_  calling out, Stiles’ analyses of the horror movie genre were still some of the best Derek had ever seen, echoing a lot of ideas he had never quite been able to put into words.  Stiles had a way at cutting right to the heart of things that Derek could respect and admire.

Additionally, he had never been so creative as he was with Stiles guiding him through what horror movie genre staples were currently overdone vs. which were underused and undervalued.  Lycaon Productions had been in a rut since his parents died and the more he watched Stiles’ videos, the more confident he was that he could bring it back to its former (niche market) glory.

Derek might not be able to put ideas into words, but he was magnificent when it came to creatively interpreting them in the role of director creating his storyboard.  It took more than just words to do that.  It took vision, and imagination, patience, and an ability to keep adapting, to start over when something wasn’t working and to understand when to keep pushing if it could.

It took a talent that was more than just based in words.

Or at least that was what his professors at university told him, and he was counting on them being right.  While the Hales were sound financially, Lycaon Productions was fast becoming irrelevant, and it had been in his family for generations, leading right back to some of the first werewolf movies on the screen.  Seeing the annotated script in front of him with Stiles paused on his computer screen after a particularly pointed zing gave him hope that he could do right by the Hale legacy because he was the last one willing to try to restore Lycaon.

And Lycaon mattered.  It might no longer matter to the world, but it mattered a great deal to Derek.

Laura thought he should give up, but she also understood why he needed to try, which was why he allowed her to drag him up to Beacon Hills as he worked and reworked writing the storyboard for _Therianthrope_ (a good name, Derek felt a bit of delight every time he called it that and thought about what it meant to give Lycaon’s first new movie a one-word title with a shapeshifting theme). It had been a mistake to take Lycaon away from movies about werewolves, and that was the first step he was making on the journey back now that he had taken over management of the company again.

“Derek,” Allison said, resting her forehead against the back of his head.  He hadn’t heard her come in, but having one of his sisters interrupt his work wasn’t a new thing. “You’ve been in here for days.”

“I’m almost having a breakthrough,” he assured her.  “There’s a piece of this scene that just doesn’t sit right and the solution is just out of reach.”

“Laura and I are worried.  Could you please leave the house today?  You know it isn’t good for you to allow yourself to go for too long without interacting with real live people,” she told him, pressing down hard on his shoulders with her hands, the touch solid and grounding and comforting.  With all the self-defence training Allison had in her background, Derek wouldn’t be surprised if she knew how to incapacitate him with only a few jabs to sensitive points.  She would then physically roll him out of the office on his computer chair and she and Laura would spend the day wheeling him around like in Weekend at Bernie’s. 

“I’m fine,” he shrugged her off, but turned enough so he could smile at her, a simple curl of his mouth that spoke of fondness. “Go enjoy lunch with Scott and your friends and I’ll see about going for a jog in the park later this afternoon.  Good enough for you?”

Allison made a face at him, one that he could see reflected in the black standby mode of his monitor.  “I didn’t realize you were paying attention this morning.”

He hadn’t been. Stiles had mentioned it in his last vlog post and the realization that he was getting news about Allison over the internet from a person he had never met struck Derek as being one step too far on the slippery slope down to shutting himself off from the world entirely. 

“You should come,” Allison cajoled.  “You won’t be a third wheel.  Laura is in, and St…” she broke off.  “Scott, and maybe one of Scott’s friends.”

“Fine,” Derek said, getting to his feet and taking care not to knock the mouse, sure that if he did Stiles’ face would be on screen.  So far, he had managed to keep the fact he watched the vlog a secret from her, and he was intent on keeping it that way.

“Really?” Allison looked surprised and then delighted, as though the idea of him saying anything other than “no” had never crossed her mind.  “Oh, Derek!” she exclaimed, putting her hands over her mouth in (entirely unwarranted) excitement as she beamed at him.  “This will be great!  I’m so glad you agreed, and you’ll see.  You will be too.”

He wasn’t that terrible about leaving his office.

He didn’t think.

 

Meeting Stiles was not what he’d expected.  Derek had grown up on the fringes of Hollywood.  Lycaon’s movies had never been Oscar material, but they’d been solid respected enough that they attracted B-list actors for the main parts (rather than D-listers). Derek had met Leonardo DiCaprio right around the time Titanic came out, and Derek and Rumer Willis had been friends at school for about a year and a half, just long enough that he’d seen Demi Moore a few months before, and she’d asked after his family.  It had been awkward.

The point was that Derek met a lot of people who had been featured on the cover of US Weekly, but none of them had intimidated or frightened him as much as meeting Stiles did.  His palms were sweating, and he felt like his tongue was too big for his mouth, like if he tried to say anything, no sounds would come out.  It was worse, knowing that Stiles already had a first bad impression of him, and there was a lot of pressure there for Derek to say that one perfect thing that would make that matter less.

“And this is Stiles,” Allison said, looking between the two of them with that same expression of excitement she wore when she’d learned he was coming.  Oh.  She wanted him there for the same reason he agreed to be there.  He could tell, watching her from the corner of his eye before turning his full attention to Stiles, that Allison had met the guy in front of him and immediately thought of Derek.

“Stiles,” Derek nodded.

Stiles jerked his head in acknowledgement and Allison’s expression fell, making Derek feel like scum for not being able to be friendlier and right the wrong Stiles thought he had committed.

The thing was, what really pained Derek was he had no idea how to fix Stiles’ first impression of him.  He had been sure that he wouldn’t be given the opportunity to change things, but Allison and Scott were really hitting it off and there he was, standing awkwardly in front of Stiles with no idea how to proceed. 

Even when Stiles was sitting across from him, looking slightly uncomfortable as he avoided Derek’s eyes, Derek still didn’t know what to do.

Laura had taken one look at Stiles, did a double-take, and then turned and gave Derek a 1000 watt stare, the stare that told him that she immediately recognized Stiles as being the person in the videos she had caught him watching at least twice now, and once they were alone she was going to harangue him about it.

No matter how many thoughts crossed his mind, or how many opening sentences he constructed, he couldn’t come up with that one thing that would make things better.  He would even settle for making things slightly less bad than he seemed to be making them by sitting in silence as he picked at his food.  He didn’t even realize he was scowling at the plate until the table jumped from someone hitting it and he was stirred from his contemplation, realizing he had missed most of the conversation.

“What about you, Derek?” Stiles said directly, his tone carrying an undercurrent of harshness.  “Do you like pasta?”

“Yes,” he answered, straightforward, looking down at his plate and noticing that he had barely touched his meal.  Pasta was pretty much the only thing he could cook on his own without the help of a YouTube tutorial, a cookbook, Laura’s teasing, and, occasionally, a call for take-out.

“It’s a nice restaurant,” Allison said.  “I like the ambiance.”

Scott beamed at her.  Anyone who looked at Allison like that was okay in Derek’s book, and it made a bit of his tension ease watching them.  “I picked it out,” he told her in pride.

“It’s the best restaurant in town,” Stiles joined in.

“Really?  Pasta?” Derek asked in confusion, because if there was one thing Derek knew about Stiles (and he knew a lot of things about Stiles, it made him feel vaguely creepy and vaguely worried everyone was right about the fact he should get out more to realize the sheer amount of things he  _knew about Stiles_ ) it was that he didn’t really like pasta.

A dark look crossed Stiles’ face as he stared down at his plate.

Derek gave Laura a confused expression, because Stiles’ sudden hostility was palpable and he wasn’t sure what he had done to deserve it.  She rolled her eyes and mouthed ‘you’re hopeless’ at him.

Laura was so unhelpful.

What had he done?

“Well it is really tasty,” Allison supplied, trying to cut through the new tension at the table.  “Derek makes this really great chicken alfredo on Wednesday nights back in Los Angeles because Wednesday is the night we all have free.  We’ll all sit around the table drinking wine and catching up and it’s really great.”

And that, that was his opening. He could fix this. “I’ll probably make it this Wednesday.  Scott, why don’t you join us?”  Both Allison and Laura looked at him in astonishment, each with similar expressions, like they were elated but also wondering if he had been replaced by pod people.  Was he really so bad that they had to give him that expression just for extending an invitation for supper?  They distracted him just long enough that too much time passed before he remembered Stiles.  “You too, of course.”

“No,” Stiles said directly.  “I don’t need a pity invitation.”

“I just meant because the two of them are obviously…” were they dating? Derek paused, gesturing.  They were texting and seeing each other in public with chaperones.  What was the proper term for that these days? 

“No, I get it,” Stiles responded, shoving away from the table and looking Derek directly in the eye.  “Believe me, I know exactly what you meant.  I’m not exactly  _tolerable_ company.”  Stiles pulled out his wallet, movements sharp and angry.

“That’s not…” Derek shook his head.  “No, I have it,” he said as Stiles took out a twenty.

“I can pay for my own meal!”

“It’s my treat.  I can pay for lunch, I have the mmmmfff…” he broke off as Laura kicked him under the table.  He turned to glare at her, but she was making desperate ‘cut’ signals, so maybe she was doing him a favour.  By the time he turned back to continue the conversation with Stiles, he was halfway across the restaurant and heading out the door.

Derek looked back at his cold food and wondered what just happened.

 _Nice to meet you_.  He should have said ‘Nice to meet you.’

 

_So lunch was today.  And Derek Hale was there,_  Stiles scowled at him from the other side of his screen,  _making things horrible and awkward and tense and making everyone uncomfortable.  I don’t know why he didn’t just stay home and leave his judgy judgemental eyes glued to his collection of Rolex watches and aviaries and **chicken alfredo**  and his oodles and oodles of money. Just because I got the macaroni doesn’t mean I can’t afford to pay for my own meal. Sure, it might be one of the cheapest dishes on the menu, but it’s also one of the best. I can’t stand the cilantro or whatever they garnish everything else with.  I bet Derek Hale would know what it is, because Derek Hale has refined tastes, something Derek Hale was only too glad to remind all of us of… lording his superior tastes in culinary refinement over Scott, inviting him partake in white wine and white pasta so he could see the differences in our two worlds for himself._

“I don’t think that’s what he meant at all!” Scott yelled from off screen.  “He invited me to supper so I could see more of Allison.”

“Of course that’s what he meant!” Stiles turned and yelled to his right.  “You’re just too good of a person to see beyond the attractive outer charm.  He’s trying to shove a wedge between the two of you.”

“Stiiiles, he was being nice.”

Stiles rolled his eyes at the camera and shook his head with a doubtful downturn of his lips.

_Scott’s been looking forward to going out with Allison all week.  I know they saw each other at the library the other day, but that hadn’t been planned, so according to Scott it doesn’t count towards ‘courting’ her, and Derek Hale ruined it all by being there. Derek Hale ruins good things. Derek Hale ruins everything he so much as looks at._

“Harsh!” Scott yelled.

“Stop interrupting my vlogging, Scott! Derek Hale insulted you, and me. He insulted Beacon Hills by implying our best restaurant wasn’t even good enough.” Stiles sneered, and raised an eyebrow at his webcam. _I mean, Really, Derek Hale? Really? did you have to ruin that too?_

Derek looked down at the crumpled remains of his newest screenplay draft with a kind of dull realization that he had closed his fist around the top page as Stiles spoke and he couldn’t entirely find the will to care.

He hadn’t meant any of it like that.

Finding the words was never Derek’s forte, and Stiles was so good at cutting straight to the heart.


	3. Episode 3

There was a point where even Derek couldn’t take the solitude of his room and his thoughts.  He reached it soon after watching Stiles’ most recent video, the words turning over and over and over again in his head.  He was preparing to go out for a jog when his bedroom door was opened by the one person in his life who respected his privacy even less than Stiles seemed to.

“Sooo… Shirtless McGruffyface,” Laura prompted meaningfully, leaning against the frame of his bedroom door.  No good ever came of Laura attemping - and failing - faux casualness.  “I’ve been meaning to mention this, but that Stiles kid… guy… man? How old is he?… guy. He looked really familiar to me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Derek said, pulling a t-shirt on over his head.

Laura smirked.  “Try again.”

“If he looked familiar, you probably saw him somewhere.”  It was a last ditch effort, because if Laura was already asking questions, then she knew the answers -  or at least knew there were answers to be had.  It had been difficult growing up with her because he’d never been able to keep secrets - Laura always took them as a personal challenge.

“Oh my God, really Derek?” Laura questioned, throwing her hands up in exasperation and completely missing the way Derek winced at her wording.  “I know where I saw him – those videos you watch.  Don’t deny it.”

Derek shrugged, doing his utmost to give the impression that he wasn’t concerned.  “Just don’t… mention it to him, ok?” he said.

“Awww widdle Derek’s a fanboy!” she teased as Derek pushed passed her, hooking his earbuds through the neck of his shirt.  “That’s so normal of you!” she continued, grinning at him.  “Or maybe not, who actually becomes a fan of someone with less credentials or talent or knowledge than you have?”

“Don’t,” Derek warned, rounding on her with his pointer finger emphatically close to her nose.  “He’s worth ten of Lycaon’s current employees.”

“Then hire him!” she said, completely unconcerned by Derek’s threatening stance.  “Unless there’s a reason you don’t want him beneath you.  Professionally.” She winked.

Derek sometimes really hated his sister.  Bringing up Stiles when he was about to go for a run to try to get Stiles’ latest vlog out of his head was one of those times.

The Argent property led into one of the trails on the nature preserve that flanked Beacon Hills’ north side, leading from the ocean to a cluster of mountains a few dozen miles outside of town.  Derek already had a preferred trail that looped four miles in and circled back to where he was living.  Today, he needed more than his usual run, too many conflicting emotions and frustrations clawing at the inside of his head.

Derek was someone who spent a lot of time with only himself for company and in his experience, there was nothing like physical activity to really clear his mind.  Things got muddled and jumbled when he tried to talk about them with another person, but solitude made it worse sometimes.  He hadn’t been able to concentrate on his storyboard all day, remembering the look of the top page crumpled beneath his fist.  He’d replaced the ruined sheets, but the visual remained - it seemed to be a representation of what Stiles had damaged with his words, and Derek just...

Couldn’t.

He couldn’t think about it anymore, and it was all he could focus on.

He needed running and the burn of exertion to quiet the self-loathing the entire situation with Stiles caused him.  Derek wasn’t sure what he hated more: the fact that he couldn’t bring himself to blame Stiles for any of it, or the fact that an even smaller piece of him wondered if Stiles was right:  Right about him.  Right about the way he treated people.  Right about how he ruined things.

A part of him wondered how someone whose opinion he respected and whose eyes missed nothing when it came to analyzing horror movies could be wrong.  What if Stiles was right about him?  What if he ruined all the things he touched?  There was precedent for it, far too many examples floating around in his head listing and highlighting all the ways he had failed in recent years.

Running through the trees always made him feel like he was in one of his mother’s movies, a character running for his life, or maybe the predator searching for prey.  For all of the horror movies he’d watched in his lifetime, considering either role felt relaxing to him, like he was communing with more than nature - he was reaching out and embracing instincts all humans had.  At the same time it made it wonder what reasons the characters in Therianthrope might be running through a forest - their fears, their motivations, how what they were wearing would impact their ability to run.

Derek thought about maybe changing the opening scene to the forest: a human woman is running through the woods, giving all the appearances of being vulnerable.  She pauses when she hears a noise, glancing around the forest, her eyes wide and her breathing harsh.  She hears it again, and starts running again and comes across a man, barrelling into him.  So quickly, the camera almost can’t catch it, she bites the man, because she’s not the prey in this scenario, she’s the predator.

Derek couldn’t help but wonder what Stiles would think of it, that Stiles would immediately know whether the opening would work for his story or if it would be what Stiles referred to as ‘gratuitous fear scene’.  It made Derek even more furious that Stiles could invade his thoughts even here, even after he’d managed to drag his mind away from the vlogger and his disdain for Derek.

So he pushed himself more, putting on a burst of speed that didn’t allow him to think of anything but the forest floor beneath his feet and the air in his lungs.

He ended up pushing himself too far for too long, his breathing harsh but rhythmic and sweat coating his skin.  He emerged from the trail somewhere around the beach area, suddenly bursting through the foliage and coming to a stop in the bright sunlight.  Derek lifted an arm to cover his eyes, glancing at his surroundings to see where he was.  There were people around, entire families having fun in the sunshine and enjoying the Pacific.  He could count at least two games of Frisbee and one game of volleyball being played by people who couldn’t be much younger than he was, and a group of children with parents who were around his age.  Neither examples belonged in a life he was familiar with.  They weren’t even lives he thought he wanted, but as he lowered himself onto a bench facing the water, he wondered if he sometimes played everything too safe.

Maybe if he took more risks and wasn’t as wary of putting himself out there he wouldn’t feel like his carefully structured world, one he had built to protect himself, was crumbling around him.

Derek wasn’t sure how long he sat there, covered in drying sweat with his earbuds hanging out of the neck of his shirt, but as the wind from the water began to cool him off Derek thought that maybe he didn’t need to actively try to fix things with Stiles.  He would never be someone he wasn’t, but that didn’t mean he had to apologize for that, just like he didn’t blame Stiles for the conclusions he jumped to or talking about them over the internet. If there was one thing he noticed, it was that Stiles talked about the things he was enthusiastic about.  So maybe the fact that he bothered Stiles enough – twice – to rant during his vlog, a vlog he made a conscientious effort to keep on subject (usually successfully, but not always), might actually be a good thing.

Maybe the fact that he got under Stiles’ skin just as much as Stiles got under his…

Derek grabbed his phone out of his pocket, dialing Allison automatically.

“Derek!” she said, sounding pleased to hear from him.  Allison always sounded pleased to hear from him.  Allison sounded pleased to hear from most people in her life, but Derek thought that the tone of her voice always sounded particularly warm towards him over the phone, and it felt good to hear it, especially after the day he had.

“The next time you see Scott, remind him about dinner on Wednesday,” he told her.

“Yeah, I’m with him now.  We’re at the… actually, I think I see you. DEREK!”

He could hear her voice over the phone, but unsurprisingly the shout was also coming from behind him.  He turned and there she was in a simple white dress, waving and beaming at him with Scott and Stiles trailing behind her carrying a surfboard.

It was hard to look at Stiles without hearing echoes of his voice and harsh words, but Derek tried.  It got easier as they approached, and by the time the three of them were within touching distance, Derek felt on equal balance again.

“Scott is going to teach me how to surf,” she told him, grinning at all three of them in turn.  “You should stay.  Watch.  Give me some pointers about catching a wave.”

Derek was very aware that Laura and Allison seemed to have formed some kind of pact to make sure he got out of the house and stayed out, but he found it difficult to believe that extended to asking him to stay when he would be so obviously out of place.  The only thing worse would be if Stiles wasn’t there at all, and she was asking him to stay on what was clearly a date.

He turned to look at both of them, sure he wouldn’t see the same kind of welcoming expression from either of them.

Stiles was eyeing him critically and Scott didn’t seem to be able to meet his eyes.

“I’m just going to finish my run,” he told her, leaning in and quickly kissing her cheek for trying and for always thinking the best of him. Then he looked at the three of them, taking in how free and happy Allison looked, grateful for the redness in her cheeks and the quick flash of dimples.  “I hope I’ll see the three of you on Wednesday night.  Have fun hanging ten but I don’t want to…” the word ‘ruin’ stuck in his throat.  It was stupid the way anything he could associate with Stiles’ words made him flinch, but he was able to look Stiles himself in the eye. “… get in the way of your fun.  I’ll see you at home.”

“A lot of people running on the beach today,” Stiles said.  “They think the sand adds a little extra burn to their workout.  I didn’t realize you were the type to do anything in the presence mere mortals… does it bother you that the only beaches around here are public?”

“Dude,” Scott hissed, elbowing Stiles in the side.

At least he wasn’t imagining that it seemed like Stiles was deliberately antagonizing him.

It was on the tip of his tongue to tell Stiles that if it bothered him, he would just buy beach property, but somehow he didn’t think that to be a wise thing to say.

Maybe he was learning.

Allison looked over at them in surprise.  “Are you kidding? Derek doesn’t run on the beach.  He runs in the Preserve.  They have some great trails, I’ve gone a few times, but I always seem to slow him down.  He seems to have some kind of sixth sense for reading the terrain.”

Stiles eyed Derek assessingly, gaze lingering on his bare calves in a way that made Derek’s heartrate elevate slightly, but Stiles was obviously judging him rather than checking him out.  “Huh, you ran all the way here?” he asked skeptically.  “That’s pretty far.”

Derek nodded.  “I have to get back before dark,” he said, leaving without any further goodbyes and ignoring the fact it was barely suppertime.

The next day Stiles posted a new video.  Derek needed to chew on an antacid just to watch it the full way through, bracing himself for the worst and wondering what he possibly said that would be misjudged this time.  Maybe his poor attempt at joking about surfing or his ungraceful exit from the happy tableau the three of them created.  Maybe, possibly, Stiles would talk about how of course Derek ran in a place where there weren’t many people to run into.

But for all his worry, there wasn’t a single mention of him and part of Derek celebrated his first successful interaction with Stiles without censure or consequences broadcasted over the internet.  It seemed like it should be a cause for celebration, but instead it felt like a failure to Derek because part of him wasn’t sure it was a positive sign not to even warrant a footnote.

And it certainly wasn’t an apology.  Derek knew that was not something he’d ever receive, because Stiles had aired grievances about a stranger on his blog, the same way Derek might have complained about people in his classes asking stupid questions on his own blog when he was still in school.  Everyone did it, not thinking of the consequences, as a way of venting, and Derek understood that.

It was just really jarring to be on this side of it and realize how your actions came across to someone you wanted to respect and admire you the same way you did them.

But at the same time, there was comfort in that.  Comfort in seeing and understanding why Stiles was reacting the way he was.  It brought him peace of mind the more he considered the way he must seem to Stiles, and that was something he could maybe fix, over time.  

Derek sat down and wrote out the revised opening to his storyboard.


	4. Chapter 4

Derek was slightly worried about the supper party he’d offered to host on Wednesday night.  Both Laura and Allison rolled their eyes at the idea of inviting two people over as a ‘party’ but neither of them said anything to him - they just offered to help cook if he needed it, even though both of them usually considered helping as sitting at the counter, drinking wine, and sneaking pieces of whatever he was chopping.  Usually, that was all the help he wanted or needed from either of them.  There was a quiet camaraderie of Wednesday nights that he needed to get through his week, and so just the fact that they sat with him while he worked helped him far more than Laura accidentally chopping a fingernail into the onions (again) ever did.

They all needed it.  It wasn’t just him.  All three of them weren’t all family by blood, but they were family, and putting aside time for family carried a heavier weight to three people who were the survivors.  Each of them remembered the casual carelessness of never making time for the loved ones they took for granted. 

It spoke volumes that an invitation was extended to Scott.  Derek never invited anyone to Wednesday nights.  Maybe Derek was the one who most needed to reassure himself of what he still had.

Having someone else at the table on Wednesday night wasn’t what concerned Derek.  Beacon Hills made it feel like the three of them were always relaxed and on vacation from the busier versions of themselves.  It felt like Wednesday almost every day, these days, and Derek felt as stress-free as he ever was going to, considering there was an entire production company resting on his shoulders just out of sight.  What Derek was concerned about was the fact that the night was only partially about allowing Allison and Scott time together (and to allow Derek and Laura to observe the two of them more closely, because the Hale siblings were completely protective of Allison, for very good reasons). 

His ulterior motive was obvious, at least to himself.  He wasn’t trying to lie about it.

He wanted Stiles there.  Stiles, who had turned down the invitation with a sneer that Derek couldn’t even fault him for because when he extended the invitation, he’d tried for nonchalance and had instead been insulting.  It was true.  Maybe not to the point that Stiles spoke of on his vlog, but Derek understood now that in offering to pay that he’d stomped on Stiles’ pride.  Derek hadn’t even considered that a possibility, before. Now he was considering how to undo the damage that was already done, and he knew that it would be difficult.  If there was one thing he learned from Stiles’ blog (and let’s face it, he’d learned a lot of things from Stiles’ blog) it was that the guy could be very stubborn.

It would need to be a good gesture.  Something unexpected from what was expected of him at this point.  It should be something Stiles would enjoy.

Maybe Derek could offer to give him a tour of Lycaon Productions studio.

Or…

Pizza was probably a better response.

There was this one pizza place in town that Stiles preferred.  Derek knew because in one of his earlier episodes Stiles had rhapsodized about the cheese crust, and he’d noticed that sometimes a box would show up in the background of the videos, balanced on top of Stiles’ small entertainment center next to his dresser. It wasn’t that he  _noticed_ these things, it was just that he watched the videos so often that his eyes immediately sought out subtle changes in Stiles’ bedroom, especially considering Stiles was usually a lot cleaner than the typical guy his age, so if there was something out of place or newly added, it was  _recent_.

And Derek liked those glimpses far more than he rationally should.

So it wasn’t that he _noticed_ these things.

Only, it was exactly that.  Derek noticed these things.  It confused him a bit because he usually wasn’t the most observant person.

Derek put in a pizza order for Wednesday night as a side option to his chicken alfredo in case Stiles actually did show up, because no matter what excuses Stiles used concerning cilantro, Derek knew he still didn’t care for pasta. 

And ok, maybe he knew a little too much about Stiles all things considered, but…

Well, Derek made it a habit to know everything he possibly could about a subject he was passionate about.

Horror movies.

He was referring to Stiles’ analysis of horror movies.

Stiles didn’t come for supper and Derek was left with almost a full dish of chicken alfredo after Laura, Allison, and Scott divided the pizza into fourths.  Each of them took a bit of the pasta to go with their pizza, and it actually looked like an amazing combination, but Derek just took his share of the chicken alfredo and left the pizza alone.

It taunted him a little, because pizza was his secret weakness, one he denied ordering for himself almost constantly.  He felt like if he gave in, just once, that he’d spend the year eating nothing but pizza.  Some days he couldn’t remember why that was a bad idea, and those were the days it was probably best for him to stay away from the cheesy crust saucy goodness.

But, it was kind of a well-known fact that Derek would be unable to resist eating pizza if it was already in front of him.

Laura, of course, suspected something was up, probably from what she called the squiggle of martyrdom eyebrows, and came right out and asked Scott where his friend was.

“Stiles might drop by after,” Scott answered in an offhanded manner to Laura as he dug into his plate, piled with healthy helpings of everything.  “I mentioned the really sweet theatre system you guys have.  Allison and I were going to watch Skyfall tonight and invited him to drop by if he could.”  Then, he became a bit uncertain.  “That’s ok, right?  This isn’t a if-you-don’t-come-for-supper, you-don’t-watch-tv scenario, is it? I don’t mean to over-reach my welcome.  Allison said it would be fine, but you both live here too.”

He looked so earnestly worried that Derek almost snorted in amusement.

“It’s cool,” Laura assured him with a laugh.  “Not even Derek would go that far.  Besides, I think he likes you.  We never get pizza,” she said, winking back towards him.  “Derek likes denying himself the things he loves the most.”

As if to punctuate her point, Derek flipped the lid back over his portion of the pizza to keep them warm, because if Stiles did drop by, he might be hungry.  The pizza would be waiting for him, just in case.  Derek enjoyed the taste of his chicken alfredo so it wasn’t like he was sacrificing much.  Actually, if everything went the way he hoped it would, this might be the opening he needed to get on Stiles’ good side.  His plan wasn’t entirely wasted, even without Stiles.

“Oh man,” Scott said to Allison.  “This is the pizza I was telling you about.  Stiles and I live by this stuff sometimes, it’s the best in all of Beacon Hills.”

Derek smiled into his pasta and caught Laura’s eye.  She was staring at him with her mouth open, clearly surprised by him in some way.  Derek wasn’t sure why.  He could be nice.  Laura, more than anyone, knew how nice of a person he genuinely was. 

Derek scowled at her.

“Are you going to eat your slices?” Scott asked, leaning back in his seat and eyeing the pizza box.

“No,” Derek answered, staring at his food.  “You can have them, or you can put them aside for your friend if he decides to come.”

Scott grinned widely.  “Stiles will like that.”

Laura started, as though something had just occurred to her, and her mouthful of pasta fell from her lips.

Derek scowled harder, because there were only so many epiphanies Laura could have, and none of them were things he particularly wanted her to know. 

She gave him a pointed look and then her face took on an expression that chilled Derek to his core.  She started smiling, a slow and devious curl of her mouth that never meant anything good. “I have an idea for dessert.”

“Tequila is not dessert,” Derek said, because he had to be the voice of reason as Laura put the bottle down on the table in front of them.

“We’re out of ice cream to mix with it,” Laura shrugged, then leaned over to Scott.  ”Derek doesn’t like tequila because it either makes him more surly than usual or really, really flirty.”  She turned and winked at him.  “No one can resist Derek’s flirting without their heart absolutely melting.”

And there was Laura’s plan, right out in the open.  His sister was an evil genius.

On multiple levels, because this wasn’t only about him.  This was also about Scott.  Derek had invited the guy over so they could get to know him a little, so they could see how he interacted with Allison.  That was Derek’s test.

Laura had a different approach.

Laura had a habit of testing each and every man Allison brought into their lives.  Derek wasn’t entirely sure what made them worthy in her eyes, mostly because Laura claimed it was a 10-step inquisition and no one had made it past step 5.  Derek was marginally convinced that she made them up as she went, but at least she was consistent in some ways.

Step one was the alcohol.

Oh, she wasn’t judging alcohol tolerance, because before their parents had passed away, Laura was party girl central.  Derek had seen grown men on St. Paddy’s Day with less alcohol tolerance than Laura had.

And no, it wasn’t about how much alcohol Scott could drink, it was about what he did after.  Laura seemed to believe that one of the true signs of a person’s worth was how they acted while drunk.

Derek never said that Laura’s 10-step inquisition was any good, but even he had to admit it got results that time Allison’s boyfriend had started hitting on him (which might have been half his fault, because – tequila!), or the time Allison’s date thought they should spend quality time together in her bedroom and had been promptly kicked out of their LA condo.

Scott, though… Derek felt sorry for Scott.  When Laura had first brought out the tequila, Scott had agreed to one drink and then asked Allison if she wanted to go for a walk in the preserve behind the house.  Laura had set up another row of shots and Scott had bowed out until Allison took her shot and Scott followed.

Everything was going fine in very typical Laura-was-a-bad-influence fashion until on his third shot, Scott leaned over and threw up in the game controller bin beside the couch.

“I’m so sorry,” he groaned and then jumped up and raced into the bathroom.

“We’ll just… throw it out and replace everything,” Laura decided as the three of them eyed one another with varying degrees of distaste, edging away from that side of the couch.

“It’s not his fault,” Allison defended.  “He said he didn’t want to do tequila shots.”

“No, but if he didn’t want to do them, he shouldn’t…” Laura’s face went white.

“You never give anyone a choice,” Allison said hotly.  “Don’t blame this on Scott.”

“Oh my God,” Laura groaned, forehead breaking out into a clammy sweat.  “It’s not his fault,” she agreed, curling over on herself and hurrying towards her bedroom.

By the time Derek turned towards Allison, she was pale and her face was skewed into a sour expression.  “Food poisoning,” she gasped, and it should have been a question, but it wasn’t.

Stiles showed up just as Derek finished helping Scott into the guest bedroom, making sure he’d be able to stay hydrated throughout the night and going so far as to set up a garbage can in case he needed to throw up again.  Scott piteously moaned his thanks, clutching his phone in one hand and his stomach with the other.  Derek heard the door open as he moved down the hall to check on Laura.

“Oh hey,” Stiles said as Derek wandered into the kitchen.  He had the pizza box open with one hand, elbows braced against the kitchen counter.

Derek froze.  “Drop the pizza!” he snapped, definitely harsher than the situation deserved.  And yeah, he thought as he reached forward and slapped the slice out of Stiles’ hand, this was probably going to end up on the vlog.  “You didn’t eat any of it, did you?” he demanded.

“No, I ah… it was just sitting there, and Scott indicated that there would be some left.  You didn’t have to ruin it for both of us,” he said, staring mournfully at the slice of pizza on the floor.  “You could just have said it was yours.”

“It’s not mine,” Derek told him, a lot more irritated than he should be as he grabbed Stiles’ wrist before he could lick his fingers.  This was going all wrong, Derek could just see it unfolding in his head.  He definitely should have brought up the food poisoning before grabbing Stiles’ arm because Stiles’ eyes had narrowed and he looked like he was seconds away from lashing out with a fist.  “Everyone seems to have food poisoning except for me, and the only thing I didn’t eat was the pizza.”

“Oh,” Stiles said, accepting the paper towel Derek handed him.  “Thanks.  Where’s Scott, is he…”

“I put him in the guest room,” Derek told him, looking up from where he was jamming the pizza box into the garbage.  “I’ll show you to him in a minute, but I could really use your help with something first.”  And ok, maybe Derek was exactly the asshole Stiles thought he was, because Stiles followed him with an intrigued look, and more importantly, without argument.  Derek gestured towards the bin Scott threw up in.

Stiles’ curious look became one of disgust as he stared into the bin of game controllers, nose wrinkling at the stench.  “Scott?”

“Yeah.”

"And you want me to...?" he waved a hand towards the container, the reason he was staring at it dawning on him.  Stiles grimaced at Derek.  "Awww, really?"

"Scott can't do it," Derek pointed out.

“Of course,” Stiles answered with a roll of his eyes and a put-upon sigh.  “Scott always picks the most inconvenient place to yack,” he told Derek, lifting the leather container gingerly.  “He looks for the most bag-like thing that will hold liquids, I think.  Once it was my clean laundry hamper and another it was my lunch bag in third gra… oh god, is that tequila?”

“I’ll hold the door open if you’ll move it to the garbage bin out back.”

“Dude,” Stiles gaped at him.  “That’s unfair.  This is  _your house_.”

“Yeah, and I was the one who helped  _your friend_  into bed and cleaned out the bathroom waste basket and found him something secure to puke in for beside his bed.”

Stiles stared at him for a moment, a stand-off of wills against not handling gross pukey things.  “Ok, that was good of you.”

“Scott can stay for the night.  I’m not sure he should be moved, actually,” Derek said, balancing the back door with his foot as he dragged the bag of garbage from the kitchen. Stiles trailed behind him, doing what needed to be done despite the scowl on his face.  He tossed the entire container of controllers into the garbage can Derek was holding open and then wiped his hands on his jeans.  His look seemed to say 'what next?' like he was expecting Derek to force him to scrub the floor.  “I should look in on Laura and Allison. I don’t mind doing the same for Scott, but he might be more comfortable if you stayed.”

Stiles looked at him in surprise.  “I… you… heh… yeah.  I can do that.  You…” then he shook his head, indicating that he had nothing else he wanted to say.  “I’ll just call mom.  She’s a nurse and might have some tips.  Plus, she should know where we are.”

Derek nodded once in thanks before moving back into the house, feeling guilty that he had left his sisters alone for so long.  Unlike Scott, neither of them were really the type to ask for help, even if they were dying, so Derek was very well aware that he was about to deal with people far more stubborn than he was.  Stiles was already pulling his phone out of his pants, moving away from the garbage and towards the center of the lawn.  It didn't even really click with Derek that he would be spending the night.

He was probably going to get yelled at for insisting Allison might need a few bottles of water or a garbage bag next to her head and couldn’t get them herself.

Worse yet, he was probably going to get things thrown at him for implying Laura was sick at all.

Whatever Stiles had to say about him was pretty low on the things Derek gave a fuck about at the moment.

________________

“Don’t let this whole thing influence you,” Stiles said the next morning, a mug of coffee in his hands as he slid into the kitchen barstool across from Derek.  It gave Derek a start to see him there in yesterday's clothes, his shirt wrinkled and creased in a way that said he'd had a difficult night.  Probably not as difficult as Derek's.  “Georgeo’s Pizza really is the best.”

“Food poisoning,” Derek reminded him, tone little more than a grunt.

Stiles lifted a shoulder in a shrug, snagging half a piece of toast.  “This tastes like charcoal. Where’s the butter? You should totally butter me up.”

“It’s supposed to settle the stomach,” Derek reminded him, slamming another two pieces of bread into the toaster.  “It’s not supposed to taste good.”

“Laaaame,” Stiles decided, chomping on the toast.  “But still, ignore the fact that Scott was up again at 2 AM throwing up and is now… well, I think he has a really unfortunate hangover, actually. He never could handle tequila,” Stiles snorted, trying not to laugh.  “I mean… cruel, but kind of funny, right?”

Derek shrugged.  Even Laura had needed him to hold her hair around 3AM and Allison had asked him to sit outside the bathroom door while she cried on the toilet around dawn, so Derek was finding very little about Scott being hung-over funny.

Ok, it was a little amusing.

Stiles pointed at him.  “Aha, I saw your lips twitch.  Anyway, mom… Scott’s mom, says that there were a few people in the emergency room last night and that the FDA might need to get involved, but I swear to you, Georgeo’s Pizza is the best you’ve ever tasted. I mean, I can understand why it might churn Scott’s stomach, but neither of us ate it, so you shouldn’t have that problem.”

Was he serious? Derek wondered.  “Food poisoning,” Derek reminded him a second time. 

“Awww… give it a chance,” Stiles said, inhaling half the mug of coffee and then pointing at the coffee maker behind Derek hopefully.  Derek automatically topped up his mug while waiting for the toaster to pop and Stiles grinned at him.  “I think it will surprise you.”

“I don’t usually give things a second chance,” Derek informed him, feeling his irritation levels rising at the fact Stiles wouldn’t let this go.  Derek would be lucky if he could stomach pizza ever again.  He might not have eaten any of it, but the sight and smell of it regurgitated was possibly the least pleasant thing he’d ever encountered.  “Once something loses my respect, it’s gone for good.”

“Well, I can’t debate that,” Stiles agreed, inhaling the scent of coffee so hard his eyes crossed in bliss and his eyelashes fluttered before he took a sip.  Stiles’ eyes were ridiculous, shades of worn golds and browns framed with thick lashes, even with the dark circles beneath them that indicated he hadn't slept well. It was something Derek noticed immediately because real life had better definition than Stiles’ camera equipment.  “I’m the same way, but I do try and that’s all I ask.”

“No.” Derek had been up all night, he wasn’t going to listen to Stiles defend the pizza to him, and he certainly wasn’t going to listen to Stiles claim he had ever  _given Derek a chance_  the way Stiles wanted Derek to give the pizza a chance.  It was unfair.  Pizza was a thing and Derek was a person, and Stiles would never defend  _him_  the way he was defending food that had made everyone sick. “You don’t really give first chances, let alone second ones, before forming your opinions.”

Derek grabbed the plates of toast off the table, leaving Stiles to take care of Scott.

“What the hell does that mean?” Stiles snarled after him.

______________________

 _I have a special treat for you.  My week was already a bit too much exorcist to make watching horror movies anything but discomfited, and so many of you have been enjoying my new ‘Really, Derek Hale’? segments, so I’ve decided to make it a full-length feature this week!_ Stiles grinned at the camera, and it wasn’t a nice smile.

 _Since I wasn’t able to get the real Derek Hale here, I thought some visual aids might come in handy.  Meet Derek Hand!_  Stiles finished, showing a sock puppet over his right hand in a flourish.  _To help, I’ve brought in my good pal and brother Scott – ignore how waxy he looks, he just got over food poisoning – to play the part of Philes Phalanges._

 _I’ve prepared a script!_ Stiles finished, a gleam in his eyes as he brandished a sheet of paper.

Oh Jesus Christ, Derek realized, this was going to be bad.

Stiles popped down behind the desk and dragged Scott off the chair with him until only the tops of their heads were visible. 

 **Derek Hand:**   _Philes, allow me to top off your mug of coffee._

 **Philes Phalanges:**   _Thank you Derek Hand.  I might have been wrong about you, you’re not so bad. Let me bat my eyes at you and see if you’re receptive to my wiles._

 **Derek Hand:**   _Ok, I will allow that._

 **Philes Phalanges:**   _You know, there’s this pizza place that I really love.  Maybe we can go sometime._

 **Derek Hand:**   _I will not allow that._

 **Philes Phalanges:**   _Not this week, because they’re getting investigated by the FDA, but sometime soon._

 **Derek Hand:**   _No!_

 **Philes Phalanges:**   _Yeah, ok, I can kind of see why you wouldn’t want to go there, but maybe…_

 **Derek Hand:**   _No! You’re stupid and blind_.   _And by the way, the reason I didn’t eat the pizza is I tried to poison your friend Scott to death and then blamed a perfectly respectable local restaurant that happens to be a favourite of yours, Philes. I CALLED THE FDA._

“Stiles!” Scott said, popping up from behind the desk and glaring down at his friend.  “That’s ridiculous.  If he tried to poison me, Allison and Laura wouldn’t have gotten food poisoning too. You saw the way he cares about them. He’s a really good guy and the reason he didn’t eat the pizza is because I said you might be by later.  He left it for you.”

Stiles snorted, his head coming into view. “What do you think is more likely, Scott?  That someone with that level of hubris saved the pizza for a guest that probably wouldn’t even show up or that he knew it would give everyone food poisoning?”

“Stiles!” Scott said, dismayed.  “Would you stop, he’s actually really nice.  Why won’t you give him a chance?”

“I gave him a chance and he turned out to be exactly the person I thought he was. You know I’m a good judge of character.  When am I ever wrong, Scott?  Name one time.”

Scott opened his mouth and then closed it.  He tried a second time, face scrunched in confusion.  “This time,” he finally said, leaving the room.

“YOU TOO SCOTT?” Stiles yelled, leaning towards his open bedroom door.  “Did you miss the part where I opened up to him and he threw it in my face?  **I extended the olive branch, Scott**!”  Stiles turned back towards the camera, an eyebrow raised.   _“Really, Derek Hale? Really?”_

 


	5. Chapter 5

Derek couldn’t quite get a grasp on how his luck was running – he wasn’t actually sure he believed in luck – but there had been definite changes in it since arriving in Beacon Hills.  Usually his life ran in an uneventful stream following a straight, flat line, and that was how he liked it.  He had worked hard for that kind of consistency, deliberately didn’t do anything that might make that change, and now the line was fluctuating between what seemed to be good and bad luck, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that.  

He felt great when he met Stiles running in the Preserve on a bisecting path and Stiles slowed down enough to look him over.  “So you really do run here,” he said appreciatively and Derek had felt warm all over as Stiles continued jogging north as he went east.

Then he got to watch the vlog where Stiles said: Oh, and as an aside, Derek runs like he’s training for the Olympics or running for his life.  Really, Derek Hale? Really? Do you anticipate being chased by the mob or something? That wouldn’t surprise me, even if it was just a mob of people really angry at the fact your face doesn’t look like you’re shitting out a baby after mile two like some peoples’!

And, well, that should have been a low point because being mocked didn’t exactly make him feel his best, but that was petty and unreasonable even for Stiles, so it just made him smirk a little, as though he had won this round.  Maybe it was because Stiles had complimented him in a roundabout way.

He had to admit, if only to himself, part of him liked the fact that Stiles didn’t make his life easy, that Stiles had fallen into it and immediately upset Derek’s carefully controlled environment.

It felt so good, so much like a risk he was deliberately taking (one riskier than almost everything else he could think of) that he started leaving the house, going into town to pick up fresh produce at the farmer’s market or testing out the ice cream out on the pier that Stiles raved about in one of his archived vlog posts from the summer of 2011.

Beacon Hills was a charming town, with turn of the century buildings downtown that seemed to cater to tourism, and like charming towns everywhere, it was easy to spot the expansion of the population throughout the years, older structures giving way to mid-century brick, which bled into newer suburban houses.  Finding the almost abandoned business park from a failed expansion into the automotive industry in the 90s was the highlight of his week, because no one spoke of it to outsiders, but it was definitely there, and it was spectacularly frightening at night.

Part of him was starting to look at Beacon Hills with a critical, artistic eye, wondering which elements he could pull for Therianthrope.  The town itself was a mishmash of elements that could work, but he thought that presented as a whole: the small town locals with a secret, the dark forest, the perfect suburban uniformity of the east side, and the abandoned warehouses to the south would scream horror movie.

Maybe a bit too much for his tastes.

Almost two weeks after the food poisoning debacle found Derek standing in the cookie section of Beacon Hill’s 24-hour grocery store.  He had a box of animal crackers in his cart for Allison, but the rainbow chocolate chip cookies caught his eye and he was hit with the memory of them being his favourite as a child, even over all the fresh cookies his parents’ chef made.  His dad would sometimes buy them for him, so long as Derek promised to share with him.

He must have stood there with the box in his hand, debating the merits of buying the cookies just for himself, for longer than he thought because he hadn’t noticed Stiles walk up the aisle until he was standing right in front of him, hand covering the front of the box.

“Dude, could you face your judgmental eyebrows in another direction, because these cookies are the best.”

“Yeah, they are,” Derek answered, his tone sounding hollow to his ears because he was actually afraid to taste them again, worried that they’d be terrible and he’d lose another happy memory of his childhood to the truth of being an adult.  Rootbeer had gotten too sweet for him around the age of twenty-one, so rainbow coloured chocolate chips probably held the same appeal.   “They were, but what if they’re not?”

“You’re over-thinking the cookies,” Stiles decided, tossing the box into Derek’s cart.  “Cookies shouldn’t be overanalyzed, they should just be enjoyed.  Embrace the rainbow!” Stiles said, then snorted at some joke that was only obvious to him.  “Didn’t see that being your preference, but ok.  Good to know.”

“Cookies?” Derek asked, but Stiles was already waving that question aside, grabbing a box of Oreos off the shelf and turning the corner into the next aisle.

Derek wasn’t sure what to think about the whole conversation as he paid for his purchases and walked towards his car.  Stiles was… something else, entirely.  Something good?  Something bad?  He didn’t really know.  All he knew was that they had just navigated the minefield of conversation again, and at least this time Stiles hadn’t left with an angry expression.

He was so lost in his own head, Derek felt the glass crunched beneath his shoes before he noticed anything was wrong as he reached for his car door.

His car was a wreck.  

The windshield was cracked from multiple hits with what looked like a large, blunt object.  Derek guessed a baseball bat.  So was the driver’s window and the rearview mirror.  He hardly noticed the state of the glass, his eyes glued to the spray paint over the hood of his car, the word Really? a bright beacon against the black paint.

Stiles, he thought, swinging around and looking through the parking lot, half afraid of what he might find.  A small part of him wondered if it would be Stiles himself smirking at him, but an even larger part of him knew it wouldn’t be with a certainty he couldn’t explain.

But Stiles was involved somehow, it couldn’t be a coincidence, and Derek worried that someone might be trying to send a message.  

Stiles’ jeep was parked in the next row, a few parking spaces further from the grocery store door, so he could hear Stiles walking across the parking lot behind him.  He felt sick to his stomach thinking about the smile on Stiles’ face as he forced Derek to put the chocolate chip cookies in his cart versus how deliberate this act of vandalism was against him.  The thought of Stiles doing this….

No.  Derek was sure Stiles hadn’t done this.  Whining about him in a passive aggressive fashion over the internet?  Yes, Stiles was guilty of that.  Spray painting his car and smashing in the window?  No.

Stiles looked over at him, probably able to see the way Derek was standing away from the door of his car, grocery bags still in his fists, staring at him over his shoulder.  Derek watched as Stiles’ eyes tracked down to the glass coating the ground at Derek’s feet, shards from the window and the side mirror gleaming from the light of the overhead street light.  There wasn’t much actual glass on the ground due to the construction of the Camaro’s safety glass, most of it was likely from the mirror, but there was just enough to draw Stiles’ attention up to the spiderweb of cracks running through the glass of the driver’s door.

“Are you ok?” Stiles asked, taking a step forward, crossing the parking lot towards him.

“Yeah, I… should probably call the police.”

“I’ll do it. Connections and all.  I say the word, and they….”  Stiles paused, phone in his hand as his eyes landed on the graffito displayed across the hood of the Camaro, white lettering against black.  His face twisted into disbelief and then horror, mouth turning down with distaste.  Everything Derek felt when he saw his car was echoed by the expressions running across Stiles’ face, and he knew with 100% surety that Stiles hadn’t done this.

“Really?” he read in a voice completely devoid of tone.  He looked up at Derek, a dawning realization crossing his face before he looked away, unable to meet Derek’s eyes.  He stayed away, making his phone call and staring down at the hood of Derek’s car, clearly miserable, even after a patrol car pulled up behind them and he moved around Derek to talk to the policeman inside the vehicle.

Derek knew he should say something to assure Stiles that this wasn’t his fault, but he didn’t know how to do that and actually have it mean something, Stiles’ vlog the large elephant in the room that neither of them were mentioning.

The Sheriff approached him, efficiently taking his statement as a tow truck arrived behind the police cruiser.  A crowd of people gathered and lost interest quickly, a steady stream of Beacon Hillites who were awake and out after ten at night.

“We’re almost done,” the Sheriff assured him, putting away his notepad.  “I just have a few more questions for you.”

Derek nodded politely, his hands shoved under the opposite arm in a protective stance, watching Stiles as he leaned against the side of the Sheriff’s vehicle.  His long legs were braced in from of him, casually crossed at the ankles as his shoulders pressed most of his weight against the door.  He was obviously bored, head resting on the roof of the car and eyes staring up at the night sky, long neck on display.  Stiles was a sleek line from the point of his chin down to his feet, baggy clothes not sufficiently hiding the width of his broad shoulders or the shape of his narrow hips when he was in repose.

“Are you in the mob?” the Sheriff asked with a penetrative gaze, dragging Derek’s attention back to him with a start.

“What? NO!”

“Where does your money come from?  Are you taking advantage of that sweet Argent girl?  I remember her family vacationing here when she was younger and her dad wouldn’t have allowed anyone to get one over on any member of his family.”

“I’m her family,” Derek answered clearly, anger flickering to the forefront of his mind.  He reminded himself to temper his responses, that being defensive could be seen as guilt rather than a response to past stressors.  “Maybe if Chris had been more concerned about what was happening inside his own family rather than out of it she wouldn’t need me, but as it stands now the Argent fortune is the Hale fortune for as long as she needs it.  I appreciate your concern, Sheriff, but I’m afraid that if you’re going to pursue that line of questioning I’m going to have to direct you towards my lawyers.”

“It’s like that?” the Sheriff questioned with a nod.

“It doesn’t have to be. I have nothing to hide, but I also won’t stand for accusations when I called to report my vehicle being vandalized.”

The Sheriff threw his hands up, as though warding off accusations in return.  “Who’s accusing you of anything?  Not me.  Unless you have something to hide, Mr. Hale.”  He gave Derek a penetrating look.  “Such as your feelings towards my son.”

“My what?” Derek asked, reeling back.

“Really, Derek Hale?” The Sheriff asked, eyebrow raised.  He jerked his head back towards Stiles.

And everything became clear, forming a picture in Derek’s mind that made all the Sheriff’s questions a lot more rational.  “Stiles is wrong about me, sir,” Derek answered uneasily.  ”I’m not a mobster, and I try my best not to be a ‘rich asshole life ruiner’ as he put it.”

“So you’re aware of who my first suspect should be.”

Derek shook his head.  “It isn’t him.”

The Sheriff stared at him, a measuring gaze that made Derek feel uncomfortable.  “Huh,” he said, pulling his car keys out of his pocket.  “I meant you.”

They observed each other for a moment in a stalemate, Derek feeling more and more miserable.

“Well,” the Sheriff said, hand coming down heavily on Derek’s shoulder.  “This has been illuminating.  Get off my car, son!” he barked, turning to find Stiles trying to slide down the trunk out of boredom.  “And offer Hale a ride home if you’re just going to stand there blatantly eavesdropping.”

“I couldn’t hear a thing over the sound of your police radio, dad.  You’ll have to speak up next time,” Stiles sniped back as he jumped to his feet, but he shook his car keys in Derek’s direction and pointed his thumb towards the jeep.

“I didn’t say you were listening in on the boring conversation about vandalism that I just had with Mr. Hale,” the Sheriff answered.  “Be home by the time my shift is over and drive safe.”

“I always use a condom, dad.”

From the way the Sheriff rolled his eyes and Stiles gave him a wide, unapologetic smile, this was obviously familiar, over-used banter between the two of them, but it hit Derek quickly, a jab of arousal right to his gut when he thought about what the words actually meant beyond the joke.  It surprised him that he wanted Stiles to jokingly direct innuendoes towards him and mean it.

He wanted Stiles.

Derek barely refrained from slamming his head against one of the unbroken windows in the Camaro as it was loaded onto the tow truck, because Really, Derek Hale? Really?


	6. Chapter 6

Stiles was right outside the patio doors.

Derek tried to continue on his way towards the kitchen, but instead he ended up taking a step backwards to double-check, a full body double-take that made him feel incredibly conspicuous, even if he was on the other side of the glass from them.  It wasn’t like expected Stiles not to be real because he’d never imagined anything like this before, but the key word for that was ‘before’ because he wasn’t entirely sure what to think about the smooth movements of Stiles’ arms or the subtle shimmy of his hips.

If this wasn’t some kind of dream...

Stiles.  Dancing.

Should Stiles even be good at dancing?  

That, more than anything, convinced Derek that what he was witnessing was real, because Derek definitely would have imagined Stiles to be a jerky, awkward dancer and he…

Was not.

It took Derek’s eyes a second to adjust to see the larger picture, his focus leaving Stiles and taking in the entire scene in front of him.

Yes, Stiles was dancing on the patio, but so were Scott and Allison.  Derek could hear them laughing from where he was standing.  Not even the music drowned out the way Stiles’ body curved along with the sound of his laughter or the way Allison’s giggle was unfettered and loud, such at odds with the polite chuckle she always used with company.

He felt a pull to be out there with them, to experience the jokes first-hand rather than on the sidelines. That wasn’t really… Derek.  It wasn’t something Derek typically did, and he wasn’t sure it was something he could just do without feeling like he didn’t belong.

Maybe if he brought them something to eat it wouldn’t be so strange for him join them.

Derek opened the cupboard searching for snacks to offer them, finding it almost entirely empty.  That morning there had been two bags of chips, a bag of marshmallows, and his cookies, but now they were all conspicuously absent.

Someone ate his cookies, he thought crossly, staring across the kitchen island and out towards the patio with his arms crossed.  He should have hidden them in his bedroom.  No one would have suspected a thing.  Derek wasn’t a joiner and he wasn’t a food hoarder.

Derek crossed the living room and walked out onto the patio. They all looked up when he came out of the house.

“Derek!” Allison said with glee.  “Look at what I taught Scott. He’s super good.”  She grabbed Scott and started some kind of complicated routine that had Scott laughing and attempting to keep up.  Derek watched as they moved across the patio like it was a professional dance floor until Scott stumbled sideways and looked up in horror, gasping in pain as he buckled over and clutched his thigh. “Oww, I pulled my groin.”

Stiles gave him a sarcastic ‘oh really?’ expression.  “Your groin is about half a foot higher and an inch to the left.”

“I mean the muscle, Stiles! And I’m not going to grab that!”

“Oh, none of us mind,” Laura promised.  “We all enjoy a good groin grab here.”

Scott’s face did something complicated, as though he wasn’t entirely sure if he should be flattered or remind them that he only had eyes for Allison.  He illustrated this by turning and looking at her, a hopeless pout on his face.  “I’m sorry—“

Allison cut him off with a worried expression. “Do you need ice? I’m going to get you some ice.”

“I’ll just walk it off,” Scott assured her, and even Derek had to resist rolling his eyes.

“That’s a terrible idea.  Google says you should rest,” Stiles informed him, looking at his phone.  Then he smirked.  “Tough luck, buddy.  This house seems to be cursed for you.”

“That’s not funny, Stiles,” Scott told him, looking to make sure Allison hadn’t overheard.

“Come on, I’ll help you over to the couch,” Stiles said, nudging himself under Scott’s shoulder with the movements of someone who had done this before, many times.  His shoulders bunched with the effort, but he seemed to be able to support Scott well enough to propel them towards the doorway.

“I can sit here,” Scott gestured towards the patio table.  “Just for a second, maybe.”

“No way, dude. Think of the air conditioned comfort you can have instead.”  Stiles punctuated this by practically lifting Scott up the one single stair into the house.

“Work that ass,” Laura said loudly with a wide smirk, “and those biceps. Wow.”

Oh God, Laura was horrible and embarrassing.  Derek winced, resisting the urge to cover his face.

“What?” Stiles asked, staring back at her.  “Are you objectifying me?”

“What Laura means to say,” Derek attempted to keep the peace, but trailed off because he couldn’t think of anything Laura could mean except what it sounded like.  ‘Work that ass’ was a bit difficult to qualify.

“What I meant was half-carrying Scott shows off your butt to an advantage, so work it,” Laura said confidently, as though she wasn’t a horrible person.

Stiles laughed.  “That’s not even remotely true.”

“Laura’s trying to embarrass you,” Derek agreed, suddenly feeling like taking the risk.  He’d never really managed to make Stiles laugh like that.  “But she’s right.”

Stiles’ eyebrows winged up.  “Well enjoy it now, because it’s walking away from this conversation.”

Stiles leaned over the kitchen counter, using his fingers to haul himself half onto it as he looked towards Scott and Allison on the couch.  Both were curled towards each other, talking and ignoring the world, and Stiles seemed satisfied that they were occupied.  “Shhh,” he whispered to Derek, making a wild gesture for Derek to keep his voice down.  “I know your first inclination is to chat my ear off, but we have to be quiet.”

“Ok,” Derek agreed, charmed as Stiles moved around him.  “I can do that.”

“We were hungry earlier and raided the pantry for yummies,” Stiles told him, opening the cupboard with the baking supplies in it.  He pulled out the package of rainbow chocolate chip cookies from behind the bin of flour and shook them gently with a Vanna White flair.  “I told Scott we finished them off and Allison pouted like it was the most heartbreaking part of her day. I thought Scott was going to fight a dragon to get her another package, but then we got distracted by the patio party.”  He drew out the plastic cookie tray, showing Derek that the last row had been untouched.  “I’m sorry we ate your nostalgia.”

“It’s alright,” Derek told him with a grin as he took one and nudged the tray towards Stiles.  “They’re better shared.”

Stiles looked surprised for a moment, one side of his mouth turning up in a partial smile before he nabbed one of the cookies.  “This doesn’t really seem fair.  I probably ate an entire row myself.”

“Better you than me,” Derek responded, patting his stomach.

“Uh.” His eyes travelled down Derek’s front, eyes widening slightly in surprise, as though he hadn’t taken the time to consider it before. Derek wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or not, no matter how much of a thrill the rake of Stiles’ eyes gave him. Stiles cleared his throat.  “Yeah,” he answered, as though not knowing what else to say after that.  “I noticed your car was back out front.”

“It doesn’t take long to replace the windows.  I think the longest wait period was spent waiting for the new paint job to dry.”

Paint drying? This conversation was so inspired.  Derek was aware of how painfully awkward he could be sometimes.

“I’m glad.”  He actually sounded genuine about that too, and Derek didn’t know what to say if Stiles was blaming himself.  For some reason he didn’t want Stiles to know that he was aware of the videos.  He wasn’t sure why, but he thought things might be getting a bit better between them and it might spare Stiles some embarrassment if he thought he got away with it.  Part of him wanted Stiles to tell him about them himself.

Another part of him thought he might be completely full of shit and was just frightened of telling Stiles he knew, which made him both a coward and a hypocrite.

Derek watched Stiles as he shoved a second cookie directly in his mouth while checking his phone.  He was forced to wipe crumbs off the screen while chewing, and Derek could see how he managed to finish an entire row on his own.  Possibly all at once.

“I’ve got to go meet someone,” Stiles said, jotting off a quick text message with a grin.  “Later, man,” he said, clapping Derek on the shoulder with his hand (and leaving behind fingerprints of crumbs) in a gesture that seemed impersonal and friendly in equal parts.

Derek watched him go.

Three days later found him in the emergency room with a gash opened on his hand, waiting for a doctor to patch him up.  It had been a stupid mistake with a steak knife and a desire for quesadillas, and Laura had freaked out over the sight of blood.  Allison had to drive him in, but she kept laughing at what she called his pouting expression at the fact he stabbed himself while trying to imitate a Jamie Oliver YouTube video.

It was the first time he met Scott’s mother and Stiles’ step mother.

It could have gone better.

“I’m Nurse McCall,” a nurse said brusquely, snapping back the privacy curtain and facing him.

“Derek Hale,” he answered, trying to figure out where he recognised her from.

“I’m familiar with your name,” Nurse McCall said, grabbing a needle out of the drawer efficiently.  She stared at him and showed him a hypodermic needle with one of the largest gauges he had ever seen.

“Is that really necessary?  I just need a few stitches.”  He was so confused, this entire scenario like one of the (admittedly terrible) movies Lycaon produced in the last ten years.  He didn’t think he was in danger of anything except getting a big needle stuck in his arm.

“Tetanus,” she informed him.

“I thought I was up on that shot,” Derek answered, still baffled, but things were starting to come together in his mind.

“You are.  My son talks about you all the time in places he really shouldn’t,” she told him, prepping the needle with efficient movements.  “There are some things I’d like to know.”

“Your son?” Derek asked, and it wasn’t surprising that he knew she wasn’t talking about Scott. It was a relief, actually, that this situation wasn’t more nefarious than a mother protecting her child. “Stiles?”

And there it was, he now had the full picture in his mind.  Of course.  Of course Stiles’ presence would follow him here and he’d end up in a vulnerable position while Stiles’ mother interrogated him.  It seemed like both of Stiles’ parents were very quick to jump to the defense of their kid and it really, really was not working out for Derek.

She raised an eyebrow.  “You jumped to that conclusion quickly.  My husband indicated that you were aware of the video blog,” she said conversationally while tapping the syringe for air bubbles.  “How long?  Turn over and pull down your pants.”

“I’m aware of it,” Derek told her, unbuttoning his pants and turning on his side, not arguing with her though he wasn’t sure that he actually needed the shot she was about to administer.  “Stiles is brilliant. I work in the horror movie industry and I knew about the blog before I met him.”

“He doesn’t know that you know?” she asked, using a disinfectant wipe on his ass.  “Doesn’t it infuriate you that he mocks you every chance he gets?  You seem to be a very proud man, Mr. Hale, doesn’t it get under your skin? Doesn’t make you infuriated to the point of striking back at him?”

“What? No!” Derek said, bracing himself for the shot she hadn’t yet administered.  He wondered if making him tense was part of her interrogation plan, because he was not looking forward to the needle piercing his skin. “Of course not. I wouldn’t hurt him. He’s amazing and no matter what he thinks of me, my regard for him will never change.  I’ll even let you stick me with a needle if it’ll convince you.”

“Who are you talking to Mr. Hale?” the doctor asked, walking into the room and picking up his chart.  “And why are your pants down?  I thought you needed stitches in your hand?”

Derek didn’t say a word.  That certainly could have gone better.  Stiles’ parents were incredibly intimidating, but he thought he would much rather have another run in with the Sheriff than with his wife, if given the option.

Guns? So much less frightening than a mother with a very large needle and a glint in her eye like she would use it on him if he hurt her son.


	7. Chapter 7

**_Episode 7_ **

****

****

Laura was undeniably nosey, but she was also in equal parts lazy and apathetic, depending on her interests.  Forcefully inserting herself into his love life had started to be one of her interests a few years back when she realized that ‘love life’ was a misnomer.  There were lines she didn’t cross, but if she felt there was a possibility for “Derek” to become “Derek + *fill in the blank*” then she made sure he faced the difficult questions: Did he like the other person enough to take the risk of asking them out? Could he accept not having them in his life if he didn’t take a risk?  Could he accept having them in his life as a friend, and only a friend, if he didn’t take the risk?

It was basically a lot of risk assessment.

So after she figured out that Stiles, Scott’s friend was the same person as the vlogger Derek watched more than the twice a week new videos were posted, Derek fully expected her to watch the videos to satisfy her curiosity as to why Derek was so taken with them. Laura would want to make sure Stiles was worth Derek’s interest, and she would see the videos as the opportunity to know what Derek knew, to attempt to see what he saw, and out of everything he knew about Laura’s tenacity, he knew she’d stumble across them sooner or later. 

Derek was actually shocked it hadn’t happened already, because she should have started watching them weeks ago, the moment she first put things together.  And when she did watch them, he knew what she was going to see.

Stiles mocking him over the internet.

Derek might be able to see beyond that, but Laura? He was hoping that she tried watching, got bored somewhere along the way, and gave up, because he could tell that she hadn’t seen the most recent ones that started with the introduction of Really, Derek Hale?

If she had… well, he would be scraping little pieces of Stiles off the foyer floor seconds after he tried to enter the house.

If Laura had watched the Really, Derek Hale? videos she wouldn’t forgive them as easily as Derek was (trying to).  She certainly would never forget.

Derek still had a small sliver of hope that he and Stiles would manage to meet in the middle.  He was learning that Stiles wasn’t perfect and that his opinion wasn’t infallible, and Derek hoped that there was a similar shift of dynamics going on with Stiles.  He didn’t dismiss what Stiles had done, entirely, but he kind of understood how it could happen.  It was a rare person to see beyond Derek’s taciturn, almost chilly first impression.

But then, most people just called him a cold bastard to his face (or behind his back), they didn’t air their animosity on the internet.

And Laura?  Laura was worse than Derek was when it came to forgiveness.  Derek had a higher threshold for clemency, for seeing the good in people close to him, almost to the point of blindness, until they took things too far.  Derek didn’t forgive, but it took a hell of a lot to flip that switch and Stiles wasn’t even close to it yet.

So he didn’t want Laura to see the videos and think badly of Stiles, because this was Derek’s life and he thought that for once, Stiles was a risk he was willing to take. 

Laura wasn’t the one he had to worry about.

 “Allison, I need…” Derek started, trailing off when he noticed the image on her computer screen.  She scrambled to pause the video, tilting down her laptop screen quickly and minimizing the frozen image of Stiles paused mid-pointed barb.

“Derek!” she said in surprise, wiping the tears off her cheeks with an impatient hand.  “I don’t… it’s not… it’s just sad YouTube video of animals dying?” she finally settled on, but Derek knew her well enough to tell that her hands were shaking in fury and the tears went deeper than any of the horrifying videos of animals on the internet.  There was an expression of personal betrayal written all over her face.

“You’re watching Stiles’ video blog,” he guessed, sighing internally.  All this time he’d been worried about Laura, but of course Allison would be aware the videos existed.  He moved forward so he could sit next to her, hoping that maybe there was time for damage control.

Allison nodded hesitantly.  “How did you guess?”

“He’s on your computer screen for one thing,” Derek answered, nodding towards her laptop.  “I recognised him immediately.”

“Please don’t watch them, Derek.  They’re…” she shifted, clearly tormented. Allison didn’t want him to know what was on those videos, but she didn’t know how to warn him away without bringing his attention to them.  The conundrum was written all over her expressive face. “They’re so unkind, and I don’t know if I can forgive Scott for this.  He’s not the man I thought he was, if he can just sit there and allow…”

Allison trailed off and her expression closed off, telling him that she was going to protect him at all costs, even if it meant her relationship with Scott.  He recognised the stubborn set of her jaw and the sudden hardness in her eyes, steeling herself for what was ahead.

Derek reached out and drew her towards him, tucking her against his shoulder so that his chin brushed against the crown of her head.  He could feel the slight tremor in her limbs, and it was second nature for him to sooth her.  There was a long time when the two of them only had each other to lean on and to understand.  “I think Scott will surprise you.  He’s a much better person than you’re giving him credit for, and I think you know that or you wouldn’t feel so betrayed.  Keep watching the video, he isn’t complicit for long.”

 “Wait.  You knew?” she questioned incredulously.  “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“What is there to say?” Derek asked in confusion.  “That Stiles doesn’t like me?  That was obvious.”

 “But there’s a difference!” Allison asserted sharply, drawing away from him.  Her expression was furious.  He thought some of that might be directed at him.  Mostly Stiles, some Scott, but also at Derek for what she saw as suffering in silence. “Between dislike and –“ she gestured at her laptop sharply.  “I invited him into your home.”

“This is your home,” he reminded her gently.  “I just live here.”

“No, this is where you live and where you feel safest, and I brought him here.  I invited him, and he insulted you.”  A tear rolled down Allison’s cheek. He hadn’t wanted to make her cry again. “Derek, no one deserves to be mocked like this, but you least of all.”

“Don’t,” he told her gently, closing her laptop mid-video so neither of them had to see Stiles’ mouth open, frozen in the midst of saying something harsh and critical about him.  He grabbed Allison’s hand, squeezing gently.  “This is between Stiles and I.”

“All this time I thought the two of you were flirting,” she said ruefully, shaking her head.  “He really dislikes you.”

“Who says we aren’t flirting?” Derek questioned with a smirk.

“Flirting with who?”  Laura asked as she walked past them on her way to the kitchen.  “We all know Derek is a terrible flirt, so you probably  _aren’t_ flirting in any way that's recognizable to most people.”

“Nothing,” Allison answered with terrible evasiveness, wiping at the tear tracks on her face with the back of her hand.  “It’s nothing!” she answered again, despite the fact Laura hadn’t called her on anything yet.  “Just Derek and…”

“Stiles,” Laura finished for her in her best ‘ah yeah’ tone.  She looked between Derek and Allison, then noticed the laptop.  “Oh yeah, the pigtail pulling videos.”  She rolled her eyes directly at him.  “You two are so obvious.  And oblivious, though it seems that at least you’ve pulled your head partly out of your own ass.”  She sighed, all dramatic flair as though she was greatly put upon by his stupidity.  “Don’t worry, Allison.  We’ll walk in on them having angry sex on the couch someday.  Possibly with the webcam still running. Then they’ll see.”

Unspoken  _‘then the whole internet will see.’_

_____________

Derek always gave Stiles’ videos two hundred percent of his attention, so he noticed when Derek Hand wasn’t being played Scott.  Derek thought the reason for that might be Allison.  Scott had been over the night before and had spent hours with Allison in her room, only to leave looking like someone had stolen his childhood security blanket and killed his best friend (or at least threatened to).  When he had seen Derek watching a video in the living room, Scott had stopped, looked Derek in the eye, and gave him a sincere apology.

It had taken major courage to do something like that, and Derek could appreciate the sentiment, even if Scott wasn’t the person who owed him an apology.  When Derek had pointed that out, Scott had shifted his weight from one foot to the other, clearly uncomfortable, but hadn’t said a word.

After weeks of running into Stiles at almost every turn, both a blessing and a curse if you were Derek Hale, the only encounter they had was two days before.  Derek had offered Stiles a drive outside of the post office and Stiles had said no.

That was it.

Seriously, the full exchange of words was:

“Hi Stiles,” Derek said, shoving the tracking number from the parcel he had just mailed into his pocket.  The two of them had almost bodily run into each other when Derek exited the building and Stiles walked around the corner, likely coming from the police station.  It was rare to see Stiles in town without his jeep. True Facts.  Derek had once seen him get in his jeep to go to a building a block away.  “Need a drive somewhere?”

“Nope, I’m just heading home,” Stiles answered, already cutting across the empty lot next to the post office.  “I’m running late!”

And that made sense.  He could probably cut across that lot and walked another street over in less time than it took Derek to drive it.

Seriously.  What happened during that encounter that Stiles needed Derek Hand again?  Derek was justifiably confused when the opening of the newest video was of the two sock puppets.  As far as he knew, he hadn’t done anything worthy of censure or mockery in the last… five days or so.

**_Philes Philages:_ ** _My best friend isn’t speaking to me._

**_Philes Philanges:_ ** _I think it’s your fault._

**_Derek Hand:_ ** _of course it’s my fault._

Derek wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but a woman’s voice wasn’t it.  That just added to the confusion he was experiencing.  Whoever she was, she had hair that looked both blond and brown, depending on what way the camera hit it, and her voice grated with a kind of familiarity that put his teeth on edge.  Was it jealousy? he wondered, trying to remember the female friends Stiles had on his show.  Lydia, maybe.

**_Philes Philanges:_ ** _I was starting to think you were an ok guy._

**_Derek Hand:_ ** _Don’t, Philes.  Never underestimate how cold hearted and villainous I am._

Derek didn’t take any pleasure out of the possible rift between Scott and Stiles.  Surely Stiles knew that.

**_Derek Hand:_ ** _Because that’s what I do.  I steal people.  I get under your skin like a flesh eating scarab and once you trust me, I destroy everything.  Everything.  I take and take and take and I leave nothing in return.  I turn all your friends against you.  Can’t you see, I’ve only just started, Philes. First your best friend and then the rest of your family.  I’ll rob you of everything you hold dear._

What the hell?

That didn’t sound like Stiles, even at his harshest.

Derek felt like he was going to throw up.

The woman laughed off screen.  “That was fun!” she said, pulling off the sock puppet.  “And cathartic.  It’s so hard to be Derek Hale,” she mocked, with a cruel laugh that sent chills down his spine.

He didn’t need her face to appear in the camera frame, because he knew her voice now.  Derek’s heart was beating too quickly in his chest and he just wanted the video to stop as he grabbed his computer off the desk and threw it at the wall. It shattered on impact, the outer shell appearing mostly intact as it landed on the floor, belying the fragmented interior and cracked screen.  For a moment Derek didn’t know what to do, didn’t know where to go or how to act. He was more terrified than furious, the insidious little tendrils of fear clawing away beneath his breastbone as he tugged at his hair and tried to refrain from screaming.

“Derek, what…?” Laura asked, alarmed, as she slammed open the door to his office.

“Allison,” Derek realised. 

He pushed past her, hurrying for Allison’s room.  She was supposed to go out and meet Scott for supper, picking him up at home before…

Oh god.

She couldn’t go to that house, not with  _her_ …

“Allison!” Derek shouted, pushing into her bedroom without knocking.

“What are you doing?” she asked, a jarred line of nail polish across one of her toes from being startled.  “Derek, what are you…”

“Kate’s in town,” Derek answered, tone almost ragged, as he pulled a suitcase from beneath her bed and dumped it on the mattress.  It tipped over the open bottle of nail polish, but Allison was already off her duvet and running for her closet.

“Are you sure?” Laura asked, the rational one in the doorway.

Derek nodded.  Then he found his voice, and answered more firmly and with a sense of finality.  “Yes.  Take Allison back to Los Angeles.  Tonight.“

"What about you?”

“I’ll take care of the house and meet you there.”

“Derek,” Laura said, worried, as she grabbed his arm.  "Don’t do anything stupid.  Come with us.“

"I can’t yet.  I have to…” Derek wasn’t sure he could voice what was so important.  It wasn’t the house or Beacon Hills, it was protecting Stiles and doing everything he could to get him out of Kate’s clutches.

“Derek, please.  I can’t go through this again without you.”  Allison’s voice cracked.

“You won’t have to,” he promised.

_________________

_“That was fun! And cathartic. **It’s so hard to be Derek Hale.**   Let’s try again, I think I can really get into the core of the character.  Asshole is easy.”_

Stiles sat up, appearing in the frame of the camera as he peeled the sock puppet off.  He grimaced at it before throwing it across the room.  _“No.”_

_“Asshole isn’t easy?”_

_“Let’s not try again. It was terrible enough the first time around.  Let me know when you have better material, I have more important things to do in this video today than make fun of Derek Hale with you.”_

 

****

**_x.x.x.x.x._ **

**_Episode 8_ **

**_x.x.x.x.x._ **

 

_The year is 2013 people, not 1980. We know what blood splatter looks like ok? You don’t need to protect our sensibilities or anything, and your movie isn’t trying to recreate a debatably golden area of cinema. So why did the serial killer get shot, clutch his waist and fall, and there was no blood?  This is a horror movie, and there was blood in other scenes so there wasn’t some kind of stylistic decision made, just bad CG.  I had to pause the movie, I was so distracted by—_

“Stiles? They’re gone.”

“What’s gone?” Stiles asked, turning towards the doorway to his bedroom.  “Those cookies mom bought?  Yeah, dad finished the last one off for breakfast.  If he thinks I’m not going to hold that over his head for two weeks’ worth of salad he’s mistaken.”

“No,” Scott inhaled raggedly.  “Allison and the others.  They left.  The house is empty and she’s not answering her texts and both of the cars aren’t in the yard.”

“Is that all?” Stiles asked.  “Is this like that time Laura and Allison decided to go into the city to shop and she forgot her phone when changing purses and Derek didn’t answer the door because he’s a jerk?  That’s more detail than I ever wanted to know for a situation outside of a Sandra Bullock movie.”

“No, it’s not like that at all. Allison promised she wouldn’t forget her phone again and even if she did, Derek answers the door for me now.  Even if he wasn’t home all the curtains wouldn’t be closed and the back balcony locked.  Something’s going on.”

Stiles laughed.  "Something’s going on, alright.  I bet they all just went to do whatever rich people do when they’re bored.  Sailing. I bet they went sailing.“

______________________

_We went by the Argent/Hale house earlier. Scott was right, no one’s there.  He’s worried._

______________________

“You can’t,” Derek reminded her, a pinched expression on his face.  He knew what Allison was going through – he wasn’t happy about the situation either, and for all the pain it caused him, he knew it was a hundred times worse for her.  “If she’s in the house, she’ll find ways to check Scott’s phone or email.”

“I trust Scott,” Allison said obstinately.

Derek sighed.  “I do too.  I like him, I really do, but we can’t chance that Kate will find out what our plan is. If we want to return to Beacon Hills as soon as she leaves, you can’t contact him.  If Scott even gives a hint of the fact we’ll be back, she’ll dig in and stay forever.”

“You know he’s right,” Laura spoke up from the couch.

“But it’s hurting him,” Allison said.  “Did you see his face?  The worst thing is that he’ll understand why and forgive me, no matter how terrible I am to him.  Derek, it’s not fair.  I don’t want to be that person, especially not to Scott.”

 “You can’t,” Derek reminded her, running his hand through his hair.  “It’s a risk.”

Allison scowled at him, and for a moment he worried that she would argue with him.  Then her shoulders slumped.  It wasn’t so much tension leaving her body as it was the weight of everything settling over her.  “I know,” she said mournfully.  “Scott’s a good person, he wouldn’t tell, but…” she looked to him to fill in the reason, not because she didn’t understand why but because she didn’t want to be the one who said it out loud.

“He wouldn’t mean to,” Derek said gently.  “But Stiles is his brother and Kate’s resourceful.  If Scott knows where you are, there’s a chance she could find out.  If Scott knows you hope to return once she gets bored and leaves, she’ll stay indefinitely.  He might not even have to say a word, Kate’s a master at this kind of manipulation.  She’ll read the truth in his body language.”

“I know,” Allison whispered.

“You know,” Laura spoke again.  “Scott might be forgiving, but Stiles isn’t.”

“Yeah,” Derek said.

_______________________

_Laura called the Sheriff’s office to ask dad to keep an eye on the house until someone could be hired to take care of it while it’s empty. **Laura.**   Dad says they aren’t coming back.  He was the one who told Scott…_

________________________

Derek wished he could just stop Allison from watching the videos and tuck her away into a safe place to keep her happy.  He’d managed one out of three, and it didn’t seem to be enough.  It would never be enough.  Every time she saw Scott’s heartbroken face, or listened to Stiles talk about the situation, she broke a little more inside.  Derek was watching it happen slowly, and he felt helpless to do anything about it.

“We could just tell him the truth.  The whole story.  Scott’ll understand.”

“That’s a decision you’ll have to make.  If you tell him about Kate – everything about Kate – do you think he’d be able to let it go and not try to defend you?  If he confronts her it could be the same as…” Derek trailed off, because even after all this time, it wasn’t easy to say the words out loud.

“I know.”

“She’s dangerous.”

 _“I know.”_  Allison reminded him.  “Better than anyone, but I can’t do this anymore.  I feel like I’m going crazy.  I have to find a way to get a message to him.  What about Stiles?” Allison asked.  “Kate probably won’t be keeping such a careful eye on him.  Maybe you could tell him how you feel about him and then…”

“Allison,” Derek interrupted.  “They’re friends.”

“Derek!” Allison mimicked him.  “Stiles wouldn’t be friends with her if he knew.  If you told him.”

“Allison!” he echoed, just to see the wan smile she directed at him.  He didn’t think he could watch her pale face attempt for composure for much longer, especially after Beacon Hills where she’d been as carefree as he’d ever seen her.

Before Kate.

It would be one thing if she pleaded with him, but instead she turned away, already resigned.  He wanted to see a little bit of fire from her, because without it everything was so much worse and he felt like the villain for being the one who had to say the words out loud, to speak sense.

“Ok, I’ll think about it,” he ended up promising, because Kate had ruined enough in their lives already, she couldn’t have this too.   “I know how much I’ve asked of you already, but can you please wait just a few more weeks?  Once Scott stops moping and starts acting normal, a drastic change in mood might not be so obvious.  She might not notice if he’s suddenly happy then.”

“Yeah, she will, because that’s who Kate is.”

Derek nodded sharply.

"This’ll be over soon, right?” Allison questioned in a small voice.

Derek reached for her, smoothing down her hair with soothing strokes.  "I promise.  She’s back in the country, and that’s a good sign that something will eventually stick.  I’m working on it.“

______________________

_Scott spent the last two days sulking in his bedroom and eating nothing but Nutella.  I’m all for Nutella, usually, but he just went through two jars of it because it’s Allison’s secret favourite or something and now I don’t even want to think about what he’s doing in the bathroom.  You’d think he’d have learned his gastronic lesson when he had food poisoning._

_It’s really difficult not to have THINGS to say about Allison Argent. But I won’t defile Scott’s relationship with her by criticizing her over the internet.  Just know…_

_Fuck, this is messed up._

Derek figured he may as well take the chance, because it wasn’t like Stiles could think any worse of him.  Maybe Allison was right and the truth was necessary. 

It took two weeks before Derek was able to return to Beacon Hills.  He needed to make sure all the perishables were out of the fridge, the garbage was emptied, and everything outside was brought in.  The pool had to be emptied, windows checked to make sure they were locked, and a bunch of other small tasks one did to close a house indefinitely.  Allison requested they keep the rental furniture until they were sure they wouldn’t return in another month, but Derek couldn’t see how they would ever make it back.  Not if Kate was in town.

 _Tonight at supper dad was like ‘I thought I saw Derek Hale donating food to the Salvation Army.’  What an asshole, doesn’t he know their stance on gay rights? I thought Scott was going to weep into his creamed spinach which yeck, I don’t blame him, we should all know better than to allow dad make supper by plugging in the can opener, but obviously he’s wondering about Allison like a wounded penguin or something that mates for life.  I can’t snap him out of it, and if Derek Hale is back in town_ … DEREK!”

____________

“Mr. Hale,” the Sheriff greeted once he opened the door, staring at Derek with a considering expression, and he didn’t seem too surprised to see Derek on his doorstep. 

“Is Stiles home?”

The Sheriff stared at him for a moment.  “He’s upstairs,” he finally said, gesturing for Derek to come in.  “Second door on the right.”

That was confusing, right?  Stiles’ father shouldn’t just allow a stranger into his house and direct him towards his son’s bedroom. 

The moment Derek stepped through the door, the Sheriff patted his shoulder in a fatherly gesture.  “You’ll never know until you try,” he said, nudging Derek towards the stairway.

Derek was even more perplexed, because he had no idea what he was supposed to be trying.  For a moment he panicked because the Sheriff _seemed to know_.  That made Derek feel even less at ease than he already was.  It wasn’t easy to walk those steps forward, aiming for Stiles’ bedroom, but the idea of turning back now was already equally as difficult.

“DEREK!” Stiles exclaimed, jumping back from his computer and staring at him.  “Whhhhy? Are you here for Scott?  He’s across the hall.”

“I need to speak to you?” Derek asked, taking a step into the bedroom.  He felt like he knew it intimately already, but it was entirely foreign to him at the same time.  The features he was most familiar with were at his back and he was facing a whole section of wall that was never featured in the vlog.  For a moment he was distracted, wishing he could explore the details in Stiles’ room, like the titles on the bookshelf or the texture of his bedsheets.

Though, that last one was weird.  Even Derek was aware of that.

So he sat on the edge of Stiles’ bed.

… the sheets weren’t that soft.

Regardless, he surveyed Stiles, who seemed to be struggling against the desire to kick him out.

“Well, maybe I don’t want to speak with you,” Stiles finally settled on, crossing his arms over his chest. “What could you possibly have to say to me?”

“There’s something we need to talk about, and I’m not sure when I’m going to get another chance.”

“Yeah?  What could you possibly want to say?  More put downs?  This should be fun.  Tell me,” Stiles gestured at his webcam with a sarcastic and unimpressed expression.  “Tell us.”

“The camera’s on?” Derek questioned, noticing that the light on the camera was steadily staring back at him.  He suddenly felt a hundred times more uncertain, not needing the added pressure of knowing that whatever he said to Stiles was going to end up on the vlog. He was positive he couldn’t do this, his palms sweaty and his throat drying up with the idea of of the camera on him.  "Can you turn it off?”

“You said you had something to tell me,” Stiles reminding him in a mocking tone.  “There’s no time like the present.”

Derek stared at him, taking in the hard, unforgiving set of Stiles’ jaw, and he knew that no matter what he said, or how he worded it, Stiles would never magically be impressed by his words.  Derek wouldn’t leave this room with his dignity, but he thought he might be able to leave it with a clear sense of closure, because Stiles wasn’t a regret he wanted to look back on and wonder if thinks might have been different if he had just said something.

“I didn’t come back to Beacon Hills to take care of the house,” he finally said.  “I came here to see you.”

“No shit, you’re sitting here, aren’t you?”

“It’s the only reason. The rest I could have hired someone to take care of for me, but…”

“Oh, here we go,” Stiles rolled his eyes.  “It’s all about money with you, isn’t it?”

“This isn’t easy for me!” Derek snapped.  “Do you think I’m happy about this? You’re not perfect. You misuse words trying to make yourself sound smarter, your family is insane, you’re overly sensitive about money because you don’t have any, and we don’t travel in the same social circles so if my family was alive most of them probably wouldn’t like you, but I don’t care because I do.  Like you.”

Stiles turned to stare at him, mouth open and eyebrows furrowed together, a sure sign of disbelief.  That was certainly better than the air of animosity he had been giving off, but not by much.

Damn.  Derek hadn’t meant to phrase any of it like that.  He had a speech, one that talked about how much he appreciated the way Stiles kept him on his toes and challenged him.  One that talked about his unwavering loyalty and stubbornness and intelligence and wit and how much Derek loved waking up the mornings of his new videos in order to see his face, especially now that they’d met in person and Stiles hadn’t made anything easy on him.

“I’m going to regret asking this, but when you say ‘like’ do you mean like a fifth grade girl with a crush?”

“I love you,” Derek amended. “Most arduously,” he smirked.  _Now_ , his brain supplied,  _now is the time to tell him why._   “You…”

The words wouldn’t come out.  The speech was entirely lost from his mind as he took in the cruel twist to Stiles’ mouth.

Stiles burst out laughing. “I what?” he finally asked.

“You completely overwhelm my ability to have rational thoughts.”

“Yeah?  Well I hope you take comfort in the fact you weren’t being _rational,_  because I’m gonna have to say no to that.  Nope.  All the no’s.”

“I didn’t ask a question,” Derek growled, because of course Stiles would be like this.

“What kind of question is there to ask?  Because believe me, the feelings aren’t mutual.  So I think we should just leave it there.  And I think you should leave, because it’s kind of obvious that your irrational mind isn’t thinking clearly.”

“I didn’t mean it like that!  If you would just take a moment to…” Derek wasn’t sure if he broke off his speech or if Stiles cut him off, but either way he was glad that his mouth stopped moving because he was perilously close to whining.

“Oh my god, you are the world’s most pretentious douchehole.  Do you even hear the words coming out of your mouth?  This isn’t just me saying I don’t have feelings for you, this is me telling you that I loathe you completely.  You put me down all the time and make me feel so tiny, the nicest thing you ever said to me was agreeing to the fact your sister thinks I have a nice ass, and  **what you did to Scott?**   I mean come on! Really, Derek Hale?”

Derek felt his face heat up and he knew that he was flushed with a combination of embarrassment, horror, and shame.

“Scott?” Derek questioned.  “What about Allison?  Did you take her feelings into consideration?  Fine, she left town, but there’s more to the story than that.  She doesn’t always make the best choices when under pressure—“

“Clearly,” Stiles snorted.

Derek could take all the abuse Stiles was piling on him, but he would not take slurs against Allison’s character. “Maybe you should seriously reassess who you allow into your life, because you’re  _clearly_  not the finest judge of character,” Derek snapped.  “She couldn’t have stayed here, no matter how much she wanted to—”

“You had a lot to say about that, didn’t you?  What did you say to make her leave? Because one minute she was whispering soft nothings into Scott’s ear and the next she was back in Los Angeles and not even responding to his texts.  Do you realize how controlling that is?  And you want to add me to the list of people you have this dictatorship over and you think I’d go willingly?”

“You know what your problem is?  You don’t take the time to listen to other people, you’re so convinced you’re right all the time.  You need to grow up and stop making snap judgments about people.”

“You don’t even know anything about me,” Stiles continued angrily.  “If you did, you’d never even consider having this conversation… do your research.  Watch my blog.”  Then he jerked back, horrified that the words had even passed through his lips.  Derek could see the recrimination written all over Stiles’ face, but he was reeling from being categorically turned down and vilified.

“You mean your horror movie review Youtube channel?” Derek asked, getting to his feet.  “Because you’re such an upstanding moral paragon of virtue to relentlessly mock someone on a public forum without their consent.”

“You knew about that?” Stiles questioned, shaken.  “How long?”

“Before we met,“ saying the words gave him great pleasure.  A sick, vindictive kind of thrill that he wasn’t entirely comfortable in enjoying.

“If you knew then why do you still…?” Stiles gestured vaguely around his bedroom, managing to include himself on the all-encompassing motion.   The words ‘love me’ were unspoken.

“Because your actions were part of what I liked about you,” Derek informed him, before walking out the door.  “Maybe, if you’d done your research you’d understand why.”

****

**_x.x.x.x._ **

**_Episode 9_ **

**_x.x.x.x._ **

 

_This is Derek Hale’s fault, I’m sure of it.  I tried to tell Scott how tightly he has Allison wound around his finger, but Scott couldn’t see it.  He thinks that Allison had to leave ‘for reasons,’ but she just left town without a word.  What reasons could there be for that?  I’ll tell you what reasons.  Derek Hale thought they were getting too close and didn’t like it.  Or… I don’t know.  But Allison is a sweet girl and I can’t see her skipping town without saying goodbye to Scott unless she was **forced out of town**._

_I know things! The things I know!  I know that this isn’t the first time Derek Hale has taken Allison away from the person who loves her the most.  And the things I know all point to Derek Hale being a controlling, manipulative bastard. It turns my stomach.  It would turn anyone’s stomach to think of the way he controls that sweet girl, keeping her on an allowance – at her age!  I really thought Allison was different than the person she turned out to be, but I guess if you’ve been a victim long enough… I should talk to my dad about it. About things!_

_As for Derek Hale’s indecent proposal, I don’t want to think about it, but I will say this: I don’t think there’s anyone in this world who I have a lesser regard for than Derek Hale! The things he said! None of them are true, my family is amazing and I never misuse words!  He’s terrible and it’s that kind of viterole that makes it super obvious that he might be emotionally abusive to the people in his life._

“I’ve told Allison she’s better off not watching this one,” Laura told him.  “Do I have to tell you too?”

Derek shook his head.

“This is it, right?” she asked.  “Either way, there’s no way back from the things he’s now said about you over the internet.   You either need to tell him the truth or cut him out entirely.”  She put a hand on his shoulder, leaning so that her forehead pressed against the crown of his head.  It was a habit they had as children, but she rarely did it these days, no matter how much both of them needed the comfort it brought, because she claimed his hair gel seeped into her skin and made her break out. Though Laura never had a problem with her skin, so Derek thought it might be because he was taller than her now.  “I know you tried, and I know how much that means,” she told him, voice catching slightly as she soothed a comforting stroke down his arm.  “How much he means, if you put yourself out there the way you did.  What he said on his vlog this time is… well, if anyone knows how Kate can wrap someone around her little finger, it’s the three of us.  I don’t think he’s beyond your reach yet, if you act fast.  Don’t let this fester and hope it goes away eventually.”

“I think I might be angry,” Derek confided, frowning.  “I’m not sure if it’s with Stiles specifically or… no, it’s with Stiles.  I’m furious at him for being so blind.  I’m not Kate.  I’m not.”

Laura ran her nose through his hair until her lips pressed against his skull in a quick kiss, before turning his computer chair around so he was facing her. “I’m furious with him too, but I’m so proud of you.  If you can go to him and put all your feelings on the table, knowing what he was saying about you at the time, you can do this one last thing.  Derek, if Kate’s in his life… I don’t think you can be angry enough at him to ignore what might happen to him if he’s completely in the dark about how she’s using him.  Are you?”

“No.”

“She found and exploited the one person, one weakness who wasn’t loyal to you back and made you the bad guy.  Put a little bit of attention back on her actions, won’t you?”  Laura grinned at him sharply.  “No one knows better than you do what it’s like to be under Stiles’ scrutiny.”

________________

 _Weak! Weak! Computer graphics have come a looooong way since 1980, and I think one of the best werewolf transformations I’ve ever seen was in Lycaon’s titular series from 1985 to 1995.  It was heavily prosthetics, but it was golden.  This, though? Werewolves looked cooler on Buffy, and that’s saying something incredibly judgemental, because as much as I loved Buffy, I think we can agree that the werewolves were weird and kind of_ … “what the hell?” Stiles paused.  “New email from Derek Hale? What the hell?”

He looked at the screen, squinting at it as though he could see Derek through the webcam and was judging him.  “Is this a cease and desist order?  Suing for slander?”  Stiles laughed, leaning forward to stare at his computer screen.  “Oh, this is priceless, he’s trying to explain himself.”

“Really, Derek Hale? Really?  Reallllly?”

[cut footage]

 “Oh my god!” Stiles crowed, “there’s a video attachment.”  He leaned forward with glee.  “Oh, this is going to be so good!  Here, let me read this to you!  Oh man, this guy is something else.”

_To: Stiles Stilinski sstilinski@stileshorrorpictureblog.com_

_From: Derek Hale dhale@gmail.com_

_Subject: If you want to know why Allison really isn’t contacting Scott…_

_Stiles,_

_I’ve attached a video because I know you work with videos as your medium, so you can analyse it and judge it as the truth (or not) easier than you can things in print.  It’s not about me, or you, or my unfortunate attempt at a ‘You and I.’ It’s about Allison, and by extension Scott, so watch it over before airing it. That’s not an order, I just think you’d never forgive yourself if you were stubborn about it and ended up hurting Scott.  If you still think it’s something you want on your blog, then you have my permission to post it._

_Derek_

_1 Attachment: yesreally.mov_

_______________________

Derek looked at the screen, seeing his image echoed to him and judging the way he looked incredibly nervous, but earnest and with just a hint of desperation. 

“Hi Stiles,” he said, a small smile turning up at the corner of his mouth, unbidden, just at the name.  It was a habit he didn’t need right now.  “This isn’t about my feelings towards you, or your feelings towards me.  I’d appreciate it if you’d watch it all the way through, out of morbid curiosity if nothing else.  I know I’m not your favourite person right now, but I’m worried for your safety.”

Derek paused.  He knew enough about cinema to know that it would probably come off as on purpose, a deliberate pause to serve as an ominous warning.  And yet Stiles would be intrigued, because Stiles enjoyed good pacing.  In reality, it was difficult to compose his thoughts around something that he didn’t want to voice out loud.  More than difficult to know he was relying on Stiles to be the person Derek hoped (and knew) he was rather than the person he proved himself to be, and not post this after he saw the content.

“This isn’t entirely about Allison.  It’s about Kate.  She… Stiles,” Derek appealed, and then reigned himself in.  “The setting is important, isn’t it?  I had really great parents.  I don’t know if they were good people or not, but from everything I’ve seen or heard of them, they were.  I do know that they were fantastic to Laura and me.  Allison had a similar situation.  Her dad would have protected her from anything, and she loved both of them.  The Argents and the Hales were business partners, and one weekend my parents decided that getting away to New York for a few days would be relaxing, and Mr. Argent had a business meeting.  They all died in a plane crash.  I was eighteen at the time, and in love.”  Derek shook his head, not wanting to go there.  “Laura twenty-one.  Allison was fourteen, and so she became a ward of her aunt Kate’s.”

“We were close, the three of us, and besides Kate, Laura and I are the only people left that Allison considered family.”

Derek paused, unsure how to transition into this.  Bluntness would be easiest.

“Kate admitted to Allison that she sabotaged the plane for her inheritance money, unaware that Chris had written her out of his will and the insurance payouts.  Kate killed both of my parents and the Argents on that plane, and she didn’t get what she wanted.  I haven’t been able to prove it, so I won’t speak about whether it’s true or not, but I do know that there is no doubt in my mind that she  _told_ Allison that she did and that she’s capable of it.  That’s why, when she expressed to Allison how easy it would be to harm Laura and I, Allison believed her and slowly signed over most of her inheritance between the ages of fourteen and sixteen.  Kate didn’t get what she wanted from the plane crash, so she made sure she got it from Allison.  We wouldn’t have ever known if she hadn’t slipped up once, forgetting to pay Allison’s tuition and the school called one of the Argent/Hale joint companies so I went over to check on them.  Kate didn’t know I was there and she started saying… Allison couldn’t stay in that kind of environment so Laura and I paid Kate three million dollars so we would become Allison’s legal guardian.”

“Kate didn’t think it was enough, and she’s right, no amount can be set by Allison’s worth, but once an extortionist always an extortionist. We’ve paid her twice since then.  Maybe we should have gone through more legal channels and did it through the Courts, but I couldn’t allow Allison to live in that situation for a moment longer, because I should have seen it.  I broke up with Kate because I suspected right after the crash… I knew what she was and I didn’t expect it to extend to her own living family, which was stupid, so stupid.  So really, it is my fault.  Everything,” Derek took a deep breath, staring at the floor, eyelashes fluttered almost imperceptibly as he composed himself.

“Allison  _was_  forced out of town, we all were, but it wasn’t by me.  It was fear, and self-preservation, and it might not have been handled well or the best thing we could have done, but Laura and I will do anything to protect Allison.  Allison isn’t ready to see Kate again.  I know you’re used to her being happy, but a lot of that is due to Scott and this is tearing her apart.”

“The one thing you were right about is Scott.  I have been keeping Allison from contacting him.  So long as Kate is in Beacon Hills, we know where she is, but more importantly, the FBI has jurisdiction over her when she’s in the country.  They haven’t found any proof yet, but maybe this time…  I’m not sure how well Scott could act around Kate if he knows anything, even where Allison is.  He doesn’t have a good poker face, so I am sorry about that, and I’m sorry that I’ve placed the decision on your shoulders now.  You probably know more about what Scott can handle than I do.”

“Other than Scott, I trust that this will remain between you and me.  A lot of the secrets I’ve mentioned aren’t mine to tell.  Allison encouraged me to come forward, or else I might never have composed this letter, so I know that no matter how much you hate me that you wouldn’t hurt her.  I think – I know that you’re an honourable person and wouldn’t consider sharing a video of this magnitude with your followers, but I will always make sure Allison’s safety is my first priority, so I hope you will ignore the insult to your character when I ask you not to share this with anyone.  Ultimately, the choice is yours, but you wouldn’t just be getting back at me, you’d be taking away the last pieces of safety Allison has in relative anonymity, even if it’s been shaken in recent weeks.  Once Kate is in jail…

Please, Stiles.  Do what you can to protect her, too.

And look out for yourself.  Kate isn’t someone you want to cross.“

[end of cut footage]

The video cut frame, showing Stiles afterwards. The dichotomy between his smiling, almost malicious expression, and the thoughtful frown on his face made it more than obvious. “I’m sorry, but I won’t be sharing the rest.  I’m going to have to think about what do with this letter because I’m not sure what it is.”

Stiles’ frown deepened, lines showing around his mouth. 

“So, werewolves…” he eventually continued.

****

**_x.x.x.x._ **

**_Episode 10_ **

**_x.x.x.x._ **

Derek’s stomach was in knots for days waiting for Stiles’ next video, knowing that he might not have published the video letter online, but unsure as to whether Stiles would change his mind.  Derek thought it was a good sign that any mention of the contents of the email or what was said within said contents had been cut from the vlog entry, but the fact that Stiles hadn’t edited out the fact the email existed in the first place made it seem like posting it was an option Stiles was keeping open.

Stiles himself said it was an option he was keeping open.

Derek really had no basis for why he thought that Stiles probably wouldn’t post it.  There was something about the whole scenario that wasn’t sitting right to him, and he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.  Maybe it was the fact that his belief in Stiles, as unwavering as he wanted to claim it was, had actually been shaken at some point since he had asked Stiles out, only to be so categorically turned down.  Maybe it was the fact that for months he’d believed in Stiles based on a bunch of videos, only to be hurt time and time again.  Maybe it was the fact Stiles had teased his viewers with the fact he had something on Derek, even if he wasn’t specific.

But Derek didn’t think any of those options really spoke to how he was feeling because when he thought of Stiles and his reaction to Derek’s letter, what he felt was relief.

Which didn’t explain his feelings of unease with the situation.

“I don’t know how the two of you can have such absolute faith,” Laura snapped over supper on Wednesday.  “What if he went straight to Kate and the two of them laughed about it and they’re planning something as we speak?”

Allison shrugged.  “I got to know him,” she finally settled on.  “Everything that happened with Derek was an aberration of his character.  In fact, his whole family thought that meant that Stiles… uh. They thought it meant something it clearly didn’t. At first I wasn’t sure, but he did the right thing once already.  I think you’ll see that even though he says he isn’t sure, that he’s made a decision already and will stick with it.”

Laura wasn’t convinced.

“What about you?” she demanded, almost confrontationally.  “How can you be so calm?  Because you love him?”

Derek shrugged.

Derek… Derek didn’t know what to think anymore, because if a mistake had been made anywhere, it was made by him.  Because he trusted someone he shouldn’t have.  He didn’t have Laura’s judgmental pessimism or Allison’s conviction in goodness, he just had his guilt and the Jenga tower of faith he had for Stiles as a person, someone he actually didn’t know on a personal level, it turned out.  How often had he been wrong so far?

Not that many, a little voice in the back of his head poked at him, but the truth wasn’t all that helpful.

Derek went for a run the morning of Stiles’ next scheduled update, pushing himself until he was panting, sweat pouring off his brow and stinging his eyes.  He finished a 10K run in fifty minutes, which wasn’t a personal best, but he’d been lax in keeping up his training over the last few weeks.

His fault, of course.

He made it home before the video was posted, showered, changed, and ate lunch before his phone chimed with a small notification that held so much personal investment for all of them.

His heart was beating quickly, phone tightly clasped in his hand until his fingers left smudges along the back of it.  Derek’s head buzzed with anticipation, a reaction that was so devoid of worry that it actually left Derek reeling in confusion.

No matter what he tried to convince himself, he wasn’t over Stiles yet because each beat of his heart seemed to stutter his name.

Without a word, Allison brought her laptop into the kitchen, setting it in front of Derek with the Youtube page already loaded and waiting for her to press play.  She didn’t until Laura settled down on Allison’s other side, none of them ever exchanging a word.

“5 minutes, 28 seconds,” Laura read out loud, and none of them said what they were thinking: that over five minutes was plenty of time for Stiles to tear their world apart.

Allison pressed play, and Derek was sure than none of them breathed for the full 5:28.

Stiles’ newest Stiles’ Horror Picture Blog video ran through without a single personal aside. No mention of Derek, no mention of Kate or Scott or Allison or even what he ate for breakfast.  It was one of the most professional videos he had ever managed, almost devoid of personality entirely.

The three of them watched it together and the relief was palpable in the room.  Laura, strangely enough, was the one who looked the most vindicated, like her pessimism was just a front to hide her concern that Stiles wouldn’t be on their side.  Allison shrugged and smiled, but Derek could see that a weight was lifted from her shoulders.

It hadn’t really been Derek taking a chance on Stiles, it had been all three of them, but Allison had been the one out of all of them who had already lost the most, still had the most to lose, and she had been the strongest out of the three of them.

Derek just felt… he didn’t know how to feel.  There was no sense of relief.  His only revelation was that whatever it was that was on his mind, it wasn’t whether Stiles would post the video letter or not.  If anything, the weight settled more firmly onto his shoulders now that he’d seen the vlog entry and confirmed that Stiles hadn’t aired his confession.

If Stiles could be so reasonable, so thoughtful about his actions and the impact they could cause, then why had Derek become such a blind spot to him?  Why was it ok for Stiles to post the vlog entry of Derek’s mistimed love confession?  Why was it ok for Stiles to almost air the letter just because he sent it?

Did Stiles really hate him that much?

_Yes._

In that moment, Derek understood ‘yes’ to be the answer, to have been the answer all along.  For every step he took to try to repair his image in Stiles’ eyes, Stiles had only hated him more, each moment clouding things a little further until his absolute hatred for Derek brought them to the place they were now and Stiles had been on the precipice of doing something completely out of character for him because of that hatred.

It was one thing to hear the words spoken out loud and quite another to understand the truth of them deep in his core, an upset that settled in his stomach and shook him with the pervading sense of disquiet.

Derek reached forward, brushing his finger along the line of Stiles’ face, paused on screen, before closing the laptop lid firmly.

_________________

So Derek worked on finishing the storyboard for  _Therianthrope_.

Even if he was still in Beacon Hills, the moment he finished working on preparing the movie for pre-pre-production, he would have had to return to Los Angeles.  Everything that happened had just quickened the inevitable.  It wasn’t really comforting to know he would have eventually left, and probably never would have taken those final steps towards sharing his feelings with Stiles, because on this side of exposing his heart, the relief of knowing he tried didn’t even touch the way it felt to know for sure that he was rejected.

“I don’t really understand,” Laura said, sitting on the edge of his desk and watching as he created a movie board out of adhesive putty, notes, string, and the large blank wall in his office.  Two days ago it had been blank and now he had almost a third of the movie plotted out.  Stiles’ voice came over the speakers of Derek’s computer, talking about the effective use of scene cuts in modern movies.  Derek had a playlist created of all the helpful moments he could remember, pulled up from a database worth of ideas he had created based on Stiles’ opinions and had been working on before they even met. 

Even the times when he disagreed with what Stiles said were useful because they helped shape the direction he wanted to go in. 

“You’re doing this for him?” she asked.  “Giving him the perfect movie?”

“I’m doing this for me!” Derek snapped.  “It’s mine, and it has nothing to do with him.”

Laura held up her hand to stop his verbal rebuttal.  “Fine, but in your place I wouldn’t be able to listen to these,” she said over his thoughts as he surveyed his board and then moved a part of the timeline, writing a note for it to cut scene.

Derek ignored her.

“But for you, Stiles as a person was always secondary, wasn’t it?  You almost kept them separate.  Stiles the intellectual horror critic and Stiles the asshole vlogger.”

“No,” Derek said tersely, marking the change he’d just made to the board in the official document.  “There was never anything separate about them.  They’re the same person.”

“But you only met one of them.”

“ _They’re the same person_ ,” Derek reiterated. 

He could sense her making a face behind him.  “Then I don’t understand how you can listen to this after everything that happened.   God Derek, he cut you down into tiny pieces.”

“Just because,” Derek trailed off as Stiles said something particularly brilliant about lighting (or lack thereof) that would really work in the scene with the final transformation.  He moved forward quickly, making note.  Eventually, these concepts would be slightly more intuitive to him than they were on his first foray into the movie world, but for now there was Stiles.  “… things didn’t work out between us personally doesn’t mean…” Derek looked up to see that Laura was gone.  “Stiles isn’t worthy of listening to.”

“He doesn’t want me,” Derek said to the empty room, “I can hear what he’s saying.” 

****

****

****

**_x.x.x.x._ **

**_Episode 11_ **

**_x.x.x.x._ **

Derek’s relationship with Stiles remained at a stand-still for longer than they knew each other in person.  Derek still watched Stiles’ vlog twice a week, the first moment he was able to after getting the phone notification that it had been posted, and Stiles still refused to publically comment or discuss Derek’s letter.  He kept to the decision he had made in the video entry right after Derek sent the letter about Kate, which was to just ignore the fact that Derek had sent him anything and pretend it didn’t exist.  It had the opposite effect on Stiles’s viewers than he (and probably Stiles) suspected it would.  Instead of forgetting about the fact Derek existed, they came up with more and more farfetched reasons why Stiles wasn’t talking about it.

And honestly, some of the things they came up with Derek wouldn’t have considered in a million years.  There were commenters who assumed they had gotten together, citing how perfect of a couple they were with Derek’s ‘dark hair and tanned skin’ and ‘general surliness’ paired with Stiles’ ‘cute-hot factor’ and ‘talkative enthusiasm’.

Derek thought he really needed to hire some of these people to work on his character outlines because they had such a way with descriptors.  Their comments seemed to highlight how well of a match Derek and Stiles were physically, which hadn’t even been on Derek’s list of reasons why he thought that Stiles was someone he’d like to (potentially) spend a great deal of his future with.  He knew that he found Stiles attractive, but he hadn’t considered that Stiles should ‘jump that sex machine bc you just know his angry eyes would fuck into your soul in the bedroom (or up against a wall lol)’ as being a legitimate check mark in the column of why Stiles should date him in return.

And really, Stiles had eyes.  Derek was actually a little relieved that Stiles didn’t seem to care about how intensely fuckable Derek came across either because Derek would rather have nothing from Stiles than have only  _that_.

x.x.x.x.x.

Derek finished his storyboard, spreading it out over the length of one wall and half of another.  It was colour coded in a system that even he would have lost track of a time or two if he didn’t keep detailed notes of the entire project.  He kept a record of every decision and variable, the spreadsheets on his computer expanding even as the official project became more streamlined until he was left staring at the document for two days without making any considerable changes. 

It took another day to realize that was because he was finished and not because he was stuck.  It was a strange feeling to see the storyboard in its entirety, so much larger than he imagined when starting out, and yet it was also months’ worth of work condensed into a single finished product, one with so much distance left to travel until he could say it was completed.  It seemed almost tiny considering the amount of work he’d put into it, every lined infused with a piece of himself.

Seeing it completed was like all those little parts of himself he gave to the project all formed into a single entity, a vision of himself and his worth, and it was beautiful in that moment, making him feel a sense of accomplishment that overshined all the smaller concerns in his life.

He’d just finished one of the most important and complicated achievements of his lifetime.  His first movie – something he wasn’t sure he could even succeed at, and it was ready to move into the pre-production stages, bringing on board the entire resources of the Lycaon team.

He felt like he was soaring, his brain buzzing with the oxygen at that height as he dropped his pen and hurried into the apartment, locating Allison sitting at the kitchen table. 

“What are you grinning at?” Allison asked him.  It didn’t register with him that she was smiling down at her phone instead of at him as she looked up and caught his eye. He hugged her quickly, a stealth attack that had her shrieking and kicking back at him as he lifted her off her chair.  She laughed as he put her down, reaching out and pinching his cheeks right over where he knew his dimples were probably showing.  It wasn’t rare for Allison to be mistaken for a blood sibling of Laura’s due to their similar colouring and the fact they were both objectively rather beautiful, but the truth was that Allison and Derek looked more alike when he smiled.  “You’re happy!” she exclaimed, almost expressing her own exultation just because he was.

“Am I?” Derek asked, fully aware that he was smiling slightly, but he thought what was probably more telling was how relaxed his body felt, like a weight was off his shoulders, drawing out the tense, defensive curl of his posture.  It felt right and not forced for once, and he wanted to share it.

“Are you being coy?” she asked.  “Because you’re kind of terrible at it.”

“Learned from you, darling Allison,” Derek told her rumpling her hair.  “How did you get out of that parking ticket last week, hmm?”

“Not through coyness. The opposite, actually,” she told him, tilting her head and fluttering her eyelashes at him.  Then she laughed and punched his shoulder to offset the mock flirtation.  “So what is it?  D’you finish?”

“I think it’s a cheat day,” he informed her, drawing a small tub of Häagen-Dazs out of the freezer and digging into it with a large spoon.  “Want to go get a Fatburger later?”

Allison wrinkled her nose.  “Not unless there’s a reason to celebrate with an upset stomach and an extra five pounds to my ass.”

“I finished the movie,” Derek said in a light tone, scooping up more ice cream and chasing a drip down the length of his spoon.  “And we’ve sulked enough.  I think it’s time to get out of the apartment.”

“You’re going to have to once Laura realizes you ate her emergency ice cream.”

Derek stuck his tongue out at her and felt delightfully childish.

Allison stared at him for a second.  “Yeah,” she finally said with a soft smile, voice cracking a little.  “I want a burger.  I think it’s exactly what we all need.” 

And Derek understood that it wasn’t the act of going out for a burger that she was talking about, it was the act of closing the door on a chapter of their lives and moving forward.  Onward to greasy food, complaints about indigestion over milkshakes, and rewatching Ginger Snaps with Laura providing most of the commentary.  Onward to a good night’s sleep and moving beyond Beacon Hills without completely ignoring or forgetting who and what was left behind.

“Mmm,” Derek said, dropping the half eaten tub of ice cream on the table beside her.  “I think I’m going for a run,” he decided, feeling the bounce of energy thrumming through his limbs.  He felt so alive, like the drag that had been pulling him back was finally cast aside and he could do anything.

Allison laughed and stole the rest of the ice cream, snatching it away from him as though she thought he’d fight her for it.  “Terrible idea,” she reminded him through a mouthful of the cold green tea flavour as she pointed the spoon at him.  “Really horrible idea after half a tub of rich iced cream. You’re gonna puke.”

“Will I?” Derek asked, enigmatically. 

“I don’t think you ever learned how to make expressions like a normal person,” she said, grinning.  “Because right now you look like Spock in _Plato’s Stepchildren_.”

Derek stared at her for a moment.  “It’s the alien influence. And that was a really good reference.”

“Thanks. I watched it with Scott.  I have a few other references in reserve, just waiting for the right moments.”

The fact that Allison was able to say that without a hint of remorse or heartache made Derek feel even better about the possibility that a new chapter was opening in their lives, like they were all able to finally look forward.  It felt good.

x.x.x.x.x.

Derek didn’t throw up the ice cream.  

It was a really great day.

And the next day, he went into his company with the storyboard on a thumb drive, feeling more confident than he had in ages.  He’d never been particularly bad at portraying himself as self-assured while at Lycaon or in the field, because this?  This he knew.  This was his stage and in his blood.

If he could face rejection on a public vlog followed by dozens of his colleagues (and a bunch of teenagers, which might actually be worse because for a while Derek thought his barista might be laughing at him), then he could certainly face them in a board room.

As their boss.

x.x.x.x.x.

 _It’s time to address something._ Stiles said, his expression one of reluctance as he bit his lip and then soothed it with his tongue.  Other than that, he was as direct as always, showing the preparation that probably really went on behind the scenes of his vlog.  One of the things that made Stiles great was the fact that despite all his careful planning, he never got too concerned about deviating from script, whether it was interruptions or changing his stance on something mid-speech.  Derek hadn’t noticed it at first because Stiles was so seamless with it – it took actually meeting him and knowing his habits in person to really see when Stiles was going off script, and this was painfully, painfully planned out.

_I know a lot of you have been curious about what happened in what you refer to as the ‘Really, Derek Hale’ segment of the show, and yeah, I mean something did happen but I’ve seen a lot of questions and assumptions and none of them are really right.  There were no dick pictures, to answer what most of you thought.  The video he sent wasn’t pornographic in nature.  And yeah, I have to apologize to all of you because it seems like I’m being a tease or something, but I’ve really decided to turn over a new leaf here.  No more talking about my personal life or the people I know.  It’ll be a challenge for sure, but Derek Hale’s name won’t be mentioned in my videos again.  The person I will not mention again has given me some things to think about – and a lot of them are about myself as a person.  Self-reflection is hard, guys, but I think it’s important.  I don’t want to be that person who bitches incessantly about someone and airs it all on the internet, where it can stay forever or until an EMP wipes out the world’s data cores.  At best it doesn’t really give me a leg to stand on when judging who the biggest asshole is, because I’ve been reading back over some of your comments in the past few weeks and it strikes me that I might win that competition hands down…_

_AND IGNORE THE INNUENDO OK?_

_I can hear the comments now.  This isn’t a cop out.  No, I don’t want to share what He Who Shall Not Be… oh hell, I don’t mean he’s Voldemort.  I don’t want to share what he sent me, not because it’s overly personal to me or because I’m protecting him.  My feelings in that regard haven’t changed, except I’m now aware that maybe I was just as big of a jerk as he was.  He didn’t really even talk about himself in it, and he didn’t threaten to sue like user SawXXX thought, so you can put that idea out of your head right now.  He was nothing but civil even though he didn’t have to be, so I think I can return the favour._

Stiles looked down and away from the camera. _No more talking about Duurhurk Huurr._ His eyes shot up andStiles blinked once over the screen, took a breath to say something, and then cut out.

Derek stared at his computer screen.  What had Stiles just done?  He was drawing more attention to the whole thing and letting certain people – Kate – in on the fact that there was a video in the first place.

It was supposed to be over, but Derek couldn’t shake the sinking sensation that maybe it was only just beginning, or the sudden buoyancy of his hope.

“Now that’s how you do coy!” Allison yelled at him through the wall separating their bedrooms.

****

****

****

**_x.x.x.x._ **

**_Episode 12_ **

**_x.x.x.x._ **

The phone rang just as Derek was turning off his computer after a day at work.  Revisions were still being made to the script, but no major alterations were planned.  The project had moved into the phase where he had selected a crew from the talent at Lycaon, making a few additions to their employee list, and bringing in some consultants and firms specializing in CGI.  Some tentative location scouting was going on, and it looked like the vast majority of the movie could be filmed on their lot.  Like most projects, it was a cyclical process, and he was aware of some looming revisits to his storyboard he would have to make now that he’d spoken to the CGI experts on the subject of cost and time.

He wasn’t sure how that would translate into the movie he wanted to produce.  He needed a consultant to help him understand the impact of what his expert consultants said.   The entire thing made his head ache a little, but in a way that made him feel exhilarated.

When the phone rang, Derek moved to pick up his work phone before realizing that the sound was coming from his personal cell phone, the one tucked into his briefcase next to his car keys.

People rarely called him personally, so it was a foregone conclusion that Laura needed him to pick up milk or chocolate or tampons, because Allison rarely asked for something she couldn’t go out and buy herself, but Laura loved exploiting the fact she had a brother who was now leaving the house regularly.

“Hello,” he said casually, reaching to adjust his tie in the reflection of the glass in his office.  It was perfect, as usual, but long days in the office occasionally gave him the old sensation of being stifled.  It wasn’t as bad as it could get in public places, but people who assumed that film productions weren’t busy obviously had no idea what one looked like. 

It helped that Derek employed most of the people he had to speak to in the run of a day, and since he employed them, he also knew their names and enough about their lives that he could stumble through casual conversation.

It also helped that no one expected him to dance.

The silence on the other end of the line was just long enough for Derek to notice and frown at the sound of slight static, rustling, and the reverberation of someone inhaling.

“Hello?” he asked again.  “Laura, do you need something? Midol, maybe, since you made me buy three different brands of tampons yesterday.  Three.”

A snort.  “No, but I know who to ask should I ever need one.”

 _“Stiles?”_  Derek asked incredulously.

“Derek,” Stiles laughed nervously.  “Hi. I probably shouldn’t have called. I knew this would be weird, but now I’m thinking it’s probably too weird.  If I hang up right now, will you forget that I did this faux pas de deus ex machina?”

“Stiles? What?” Derek questioned, and then shook his head, because now was not the time to be distracted by Stiles’ clever word play.  Or idiocy.  Whichever this one happened to be. 

“I didn’t think so,” Stiles answered, resigned.

Instead, Derek wondered why Stiles was calling him. He couldn’t help but be hopeful for the prospects, optimism racing his rational mindset about the possible scenarios. 

Was Stiles calling to admit he was wrong?  To tell Derek that maybe they could work out anyway?

As fantastic a thought, Derek didn’t think that any amount of time could erase what was in the past.  Stiles could re-evaluate Derek to the best of his abilities, but Derek was a prudent kind of person.  He understood that, to Stiles, everything that happened between them before would always be cast in a negative light, and the best Stiles could ever manage would be to start judging Derek with fresh eyes.

And chances of that happening?  Slim.

But he never expected Stiles to reach out to him, it jarred all of his expectations and made him wonder if maybe Stiles actually was  _trying_  to see Derek differently.

“So, what’s wrong?” Derek asked, wincing at how straight to the point his tone was.  There was nothing he’d love more than to exchange small talk with Stiles, but the reality of the situation was creeping in, and Derek was starting to understand that Stiles would never call Derek.  Ever. 

Unless it wasn’t for himself.

“Kate,” Stiles supplied slowly, as though he was uncertain about saying her name out loud. 

Derek froze, because of course.  Of course Stiles wanted to talk about what Derek had said in the video he sent.

“She won’t leave us alone and keeps integrating herself into our lives.  She’s out with Melissa right now,” Stiles said, breathing deeply.  “I don’t really know why I’m calling. Reassurance, maybe?  Worry.  I feel this sick sense of dread that something might happen and it’ll be all my fault because I knew.   _I knew_ and I didn’t do anything to stop it.  Just please tell me she’s not psychotic. They’re driving along the coast down to the cliffs and if she just does  _stuff_  for fun…”

God, Stiles never did pull any punches. “Money is her main motivator,” Derek assured him.  “She doesn’t hurt people for the pleasure of it.”

“It’s a good job I don’t have any,” Stiles answered.  “So that doesn’t really make sense.  Why is she still here and not stalking you down in Los Angeles?”

“I don’t know her mind,” Derek reminded him, though he suspected Kate was just waiting for him to swoop in for a rescue, believing that he would do anything for Stiles.  She’d found the videos, and like everyone else, read Derek’s regard for the person creating them, the person who openly despised him and presented himself as a possible ally or at least resource to exploit, and Derek had just left Stiles there to deal with her.

The knowledge that maybe he’d been wrong this time sat heavily in the pit of his stomach.

“I don’t have anything she wants,” Stiles said slowly, working things out. “Neither does Scott, or my dad, or Melissa. But you do.”

It wasn’t a question, but Derek answered anyway. Of course Stiles would understand and reach that conclusion.  Stiles always saw straight to the heart of the matter, with only few exceptions.  Derek swallowed, because of course Stiles was right, and of course he had immediately identified the one moment where Derek was actually the one at fault.  “Yeah,” Derek answered honestly, sinking into his chair as he admitted to the fact that he was the one to blame for Stiles’ problems.

Stiles was usually the first to point out when things were Derek’s fault, and Derek knew that this time Stiles was right and he was just waiting for the words to be said out loud between them, the blade turning with a final flick of the wrist that would effectively kill and sever the enduring bud of new growth cultivating between them.

"That’s why she’s here, isn’t it? Because of you. Even though she turned up before I knew how you felt, it was obvious to everyone, wasn’t it?”

And there it was.  If Derek had ever gained any ground with Stiles, it was gone now.  “She knows me better than you do, don’t blame yourself.  It’s my fault you were dragged into this, because she won’t stop until she gets what she wants, and she sees you as a way to get it.”

“You’re joking, right?” Stiles sounded surprised.  “I got dragged into this? I… You actually believe that, don’t you? Never mind that it’s my fault your name was broadcasted all over the Internet in the first place and that I created the bull’s-eye on myself.”

“I’ll find a way to fix it,” Derek promised with a sense of desperation.   

Stiles was silent for a moment. “No, weren’t you listening to me? This is my problem to solve. I’ll take care of it.”

Stiles was…

Stiles was viewing Derek at the worst he had to offer and wasn’t vilifying him.  It was more than Derek had ever actually hoped for.  It was the exact opposite of every situation he’d ever been in with Stiles and his mind reeled with the implications.  He could barely even think of Kate, and he had to keep reminding himself that even though it meant everything to him, it didn’t necessarily mean anything to Stiles except what it looked like on the surface.

Then it hit him what Stiles was saying and suddenly he couldn’t breathe, throat constricting as he tried to find oxygen.  He clawed at his tie, dragging the knot down until it tightened in harsh lines of silk.  All he could hear was the racing of his heart and the drag of air through his lungs as he struggled between the dual urges to vomit and scream.  “You can’t just  _take care_  of Kate on your own, Stiles,” Derek answered harshly, the fingers of his free hand biting into the arm of his chair.  “She’s dangerous.  She murdered… promise me you won’t go after her.  She won’t… no one stands in her way.”

“You don’t have to worry about me,” Stiles answered casually, as though he found Derek’s reaction amusing.

“She won’t just go after you, she’ll take down everyone in her way.  Scott.  Your mom.  Your dad.  Do you know what it’s like to lose almost everyone?  To attend a funeral where you’re burying both of your parents?  Do you know what it’s like to be  _that alone_?”

Stiles was silent, the lack of sound over the line heavy, and Derek fought the reflex to apologize.

“My mom died when I was eight,” Stiles answered in a tight voice.  “My dad is a cop.  I’ve been living with that possibility for years.”  Stiles inhaled, a shaky, unsettled rattle of air that upset the imbalance between them, creating an equilibrium based in grief.

No wonder Stiles thought he was an asshole, it was justified this time.  Stiles had called him out of worry, and what had Derek done?  Added to it.

“I’m going to give you the phone number of the FBI Agent in charge of the case,” Derek told him.  “If you have any reason to feel threatened, call him.  Nobody wants to catch Kate after she hurts someone else, but there’s not enough evidence to arrest her yet.  Someday, maybe,” Derek trailed off as he searched through his wallet for the business card he was looking for.

“I promise,” Stiles said after hearing the phone number.

They sat without saying anything, Derek’s shoulders finally relaxing now that he had affirmation that Stiles wouldn’t do anything stupid.  “I’ll give her the money she wants before I’ll let anything happen to you.”

Stiles snorted.  “So she can just disappear again and your Feds will never find her?”

“Yes, Stiles,  _of course_.”

“I have to go.”

x.x.x.x.x.

_Really, it was only a matter of time before Hollywood effectively killed the zombie motif, and I’m not sure there is a spell strong enough to resurrect it._

A shadow fell behind Stiles from the doorway, and Derek’s eyes snapped from Stiles’ face as Kate appeared behind him, the lack of light outside of Stiles’ room shrouding her in a way that had his heart jumping with more fear than he’d experienced in the last five horror movies he’d watched.

“Knock, knock,” Kate’s voice called out from the hallway as she took a step forward.  “Are you filming a new blog entry?  I was telling your mother how impressed I am by your commitment to this little project of yours.  She told me how small you started, and now look at you, attracting horror movie experts, and Derek Hale, and…”

“I don’t talk about things off topic anymore,” Stiles reminded her, entirely unconcerned as she moved through his bedroom.  “Especially that.”

“Oh sweetie, we both know that wouldn’t have lasted longer.  Admit it, you’re a talker. So tell me, what has your brother been so happy about recently?”

“Didn’t you hear?” Stiles asked, grinning at her.  “I would have thought Melissa mentioned it on your drive down the cliffs to Fort Bragg.  Scott got into that program he was on the wait-list for!”

“Is that all he’s smiling about?” Kate pressed.

“Yeah,” Stiles answered, shooting her a look of confusion.  “Isn’t that enough?  Or do you really think his life revolves around one girl he knew for about a month?  He might be lovelorn, but he’s allowed to be enthusiastic about other things.  Especially after everything that happened.”

“Oh, don’t you worry, honey,” Kate said cheerfully with all the reassure of a starving piranha nudging against a person’s flesh.  “Derek Hale will get what’s coming to him.  You still think that, don’t you?  His video didn’t change your mind about him?”

Stiles smiled at her, lips curving slowly and viciously, a clear threat.  “I’ll make sure Derek Hale gets what he deserves.”

****

****

****

**_x.x.x.x._ **

**_Episode 13_ **

**_x.x.x.x._ **

Derek couldn’t breathe.  How was he supposed to breathe when Stiles had just threatened Kate Argent and posted it over the internet?  Who knew how long ago that had happened – Stiles’ vlog was rarely published the moment he finished it, with the exception of the few times he was really indignantly upset about something, which usually corresponded with segments of  _Really, Derek Hale?_  This seemed to be the same, but Derek knew the difference.  He knew this was a deliberate choice on Stiles’ part because Stiles hadn’t bothered editing Kate out, which meant he was comfortable with his threat being in the public domain, he was deliberately putting it there as a way to call Kate out, and Derek  _couldn’t breathe_.  Stiles could already he dead somewhere, and if Kate ever figured out Stiles wasn’t talking about Derek, there was every chance that he still could be, with the protection of thousands of eyes watching his declaration of intent or not.

“Derek!” Laura exclaimed, rushing into his room as he clawed at the neck of his t-shirt, hand shaking around the glass of water he was drinking in an attempt to calm his nerves.  “Stop,” she told him, putting her hand over his to steady the glass.  “What’s wrong…” she turned her head and shouted out the open doorway. “Allison!”

Allison’s face was pale when she came into the room.  “Derek, oh my god.”

“I have to go to Beacon Hills,” Derek realized.

“He’s not worth it,” Allison promised.  “Derek, don’t you see what he’s doing to you?  You were just starting to put the last few months behind you and now he’s drawing you back in.  Just forget about it.  I know that it hurts that he took Kate’s side…”

“He took Kate’s side?” Laura asked indignantly.  “I’m going to slap that little bitch so hard if I ever see him again.  And if you move your hand towards your mouse one more time, I’m going to slap you too.  Get off Expedia, so help me Derek.  He’s dead to us.”

Her wording just made the boulder sitting on his chest gain substance, and he shuddered.

“Dead,” Allison affirmed.  “Scott said Stiles has been acting evasive lately, I thought it was just because… I can’t believe we all fell for that again.”

“You’ve been talking to Scott?” Laura yelped, rounding on Allison.  “What is wrong with you?  I hope that boy is worth everything that is going to happen to our family now.  Look at Derek.  Is he worth the expression on Derek’s face?”

“I knew about Scott,” Derek finally managed to say, wondering what his face looked like.  It couldn’t be good if Laura was using it to illustrate how guilty Allison should feel. 

And now she was taking a picture with her phone. 

“We need to stop running from Kate,” Derek decided.  “She’s not the boogyman.  She’s not infallible.  She’s just a woman. An evil, manipulative, murdering bitch who will deserve what she gets, but that’s not going to happen until we stand against her.  It took Stiles a month to do what we weren’t able to do in almost five years.”

“What?  You want us to join with Kate?”

“Stiles didn’t join Kate,” Derek responded harshly.  “He just  _threatened her_ in front of all of his followers, and if she figures out that what he thinks I deserve is retribution and her rotting in jail, she’ll kill him.  We all know she will.  So it’s time I stopped playing defense and started playing offense.”

“Derek…” Allison said, reaching for him.  “Are you sure?”

“It always comes back to him, doesn’t it?” Laura questioned them both.  “What is it about this family that has the two of you so bamboozled?  All of this is happening  _because of Stiles_.”

“I’m sure.”

“Oh! Derek!” Allison clapped with glee.  “Stiles is defending you.”

“Don’t take it that far.”

x.x.x.x.x.

They talked him out of going to Beacon Hills for the first few days, Allison promising him that Scott said everything was fine in there, but when Stiles missed uploading a vlog entry on one of the days he habitually posted on – and the last time that had happened, the power was out in Beacon Hills for three days and Stiles had a stomach flu that stopped him from travelling to the next town over with his computer and webcam.

The guy was super dedicated, usually it impressed Derek but now it just worried him, because nothing would stop Stiles from uploading a video.

Nothing should.

Derek knew he wouldn’t be able to get the image of Stiles lying dead in the Preserve, or washing up to shore on the beach, or his jeep being pulled out of the rocks at the bottom of a cliff from his mind until he saw Stiles in person.

The flight was the longest he had ever experienced, and it didn’t help that he rarely willingly got on a plane after the accident that killed his family.  But he was desperate and scared, more scared than he was of the plane crashing.

Derek turned his phone back on once he was off the plane back to Northern California to find an email and a voicemail waiting for him.

The email was from Stiles, and just the fact it existed made him nervous, like he wasn’t sure what to expect, but also relieved.  He didn’t open it until he was sitting in the back of the towncar he had hired to take him to the local FBI office.  He wouldn’t go to Stiles in Beacon Hills yet, because that would just draw attention to him, but he could meet with Agent Matthews and talk over options.  Derek would meet with Kate wearing a wire if it would help.  He’d allow her to extort more money out of him if that was all they could get her on.  It would be enough to keep Stiles safe, even if it wasn’t ideal for Kate to be charged with anything less than killing his parents.

The email wasn’t what he expected.

“Drive faster, please,” he croaked at his driver when he saw the first five seconds of the video Stiles had sent him.  He wasn’t sure what he thought it would be, maybe a private few seconds of Stiles claiming his last blog entry had been for Kate’s benefit, but instead what he found was an image of Kate on Stiles’ computer, searching through his files, and Derek had to pause the seven minute video to focus on breathing, because there were a lot of things this could be.  It wasn’t necessarily Kate taunting him by reminding him what he had left to lose.

But he felt the fear down to his toes that she sent this to him from Stiles’ email to show him exactly that.

Then Stiles entered the room behind Kate.

“You’re looking for the video, aren’t you?” Stiles asked, arms crossed over his chest.  “You’re worried about what it says,” he smirked.  “You think you’re on it.”

“Don’t play dumb, Stiles.  I know exactly what Derek Hale has filled your head with.  I know he told you that I killed my brother and caused the plane crash.”

“You mean the truth?”

“Truth is relative,” Kate reminded him.  “So yeah, the truth as he sees it.  But do you think someone gets away with a crime by telling adolescent boys who have their heads filled with movie villains.”

Stiles snorted.  “Please.  Kate.  The types of movies I review aren’t just things that go bump in the night, some of them are based on real events.  The most chilling are based in real events, but you know what? Not a single one of those villains committed the perfect murder, because the perfect murder is leaving no trace of yourself behind and telling no one.  I can already tell that the second part is eating you alive.  Do you know why?” Stiles leaned close.  “You’ve hinted at it twice already to me, and I’m not even family.  I don’t even matter.  Was it thrilling when you told Allison?  Did you enjoy the fear?  Did you get off on frightening your own niece more than you did killing your brother?  That’s the thing I’ve learned from my silly little movies, Kate.  It’s not always the blood or the thrill of getting away with it.  It’s the fear in another person’s eyes and knowing you’re the cause of it.”

“You’re walking on thin ice.”

Stiles threw back his head and laughed.  “I’m not afraid of you, Katie.  You, or your terrible threats.”

“You should be,” she hissed, looking extremely self-satisfied.  “How does your mother like her new car?”

“Ohhh, low blow,” Stiles mocked as he shrugged and pointed his chin towards his webcam.  “Camera’s not on.  You know how much I hate Derek, so what do I care if you killed his parents?  It’s not that hard to crash a plane.  You can find information anywhere on the internet.  I’m really not scared of you, and your intimidation tactics might work on Allison, and Laura, and Derek, but I’m honestly not that impressed.”

“You’re next,” she promised, standing and sweeping Stiles’ computer off his desk in an overdramatic show of dominance.  “You think it’s easy?  Do you know what your jeep needs?  A break line. The same way a plane needs fuel.  Do you know how many plane crashes are caused by fuel issues and incompetence?  It was easy to help along back then, and it would be just as easy to help your break line along now.  So. Show. Me. The. Video.”

“You’re so bad at this,” Stiles said.  “You just threw my computer on the floor.”

“No, Stiles, I’m very, very good at this.  I killed four people and no one can prove it.  So here’s what you’re going to do.  You’re going to call Derek Hale and tell him I threatened your life, and he’s going to pay me…”

She broke off as the Sheriff entered the room.  “Kate Argent.  You’re under arrest for four accounts of murder in accordance to California Penal Code 187 and suspicion of extortion as defined in California Penal Code 518…” his voice trailed off as he slipped the handcuffs around Kate’s wrists and pulled her out of the room, a group of his deputies noticeable in the hallway. 

There was very little fanfare.  Kate barely put up a struggle, a shocked expression replacing her overconfident one until she shot Stiles a look of such loathing that Derek well and truly feared her.

Stiles waved cheerfully at them as they left before turning towards the camera and winking.  ‘You’re welcome,’ he mouthed before the picture went black.

With shaking hands, Derek opened the voicemail just as the towncar pulled up outside of the FBI Sacramento offices.

_“Mr. Hale? This is Agent Matthews.  We have Kate Argent in our custody.  She’s confessed.  I’d appreciate it if you could come in and give your statement.  It’s almost over.”_

Derek felt numb, experiencing too many emotions over the span of such a short period.  Fear and relief were winning.  Fear that somehow this would all fall through and Stiles would be the first Kate got retribution on, and relief that maybe it was finally over and the three of them could finally live their lives without the black shadow of Kate Argent hovering just on the horizon.  He walked into the FBI Offices quickly, almost at a run with the intent on finding out from Agent Matthews face to face. 

Then it would be real.  There were so many things that could go wrong. The arrest might not stick, or she could win the trail, but for now… for now he could enjoy the first moment of entertaining the possibility that it could end here and now.

All because of Stiles.  Because Derek had been right about him all along.

“Derek!” Stiles exclaimed in surprise, surging to his feet from his seat in the conference room Derek had been led to.  “What are you doing here?”

****

****

**_x.x.x.x._ **

**_Episode 14_ **

**_x.x.x.x._ **

“Derek!” Stiles exclaimed in surprise, surging to his feet from his seat in the conference room Derek had been led to.  “What are you doing here?”

“Mr. Hale, please sit,” Agent Matthews indicated.  “As I said on the phone, I need you to give an official statement. If Mr. Stilinski would like to wait in the hallway,” he said meaningfully, “I still have questions for him once I can piece together exactly what led to the Sheriff arresting Kate Argent today.”

The FBI agent had that expression on his face like he had just been confronted by the squall of Stiles’ brand of clarification, a sudden burst of logic framed by actions that almost seemed illogical and foolhardy expressed in a storm of words and gestures and facial expressions that was wholly Stiles.

Derek knew how he felt.  He was still reeling from the video Stiles had sent him, but he knew that the story wasn’t easy to tell.  Derek was possibly the person who could piece together most of the details, and he still didn’t know what happened.  He hadn’t been blindsided like this since he and Laura received the call that his parents’ plane had gone down, and it felt like things had now come full circle.

“I’d like to stay,” Stiles insisted stubbornly, planting himself in a chair.  “I want to understand what I’ve gotten myself into.  I think you owe me that,” he said, staring at Derek. 

“It’s up to Mr. Hale.”

Derek couldn’t take his eyes off Stiles as Stiles observed him evenly.

Finally, he swallowed and nodded.  He didn’t really want Stiles in the room, but he could understand how Stiles felt.  Stiles couldn’t know for sure that Derek had been telling the truth in his video letter, Derek reminded himself, trying not to take it too personally.  Stiles had believed him when it counted.  Stiles had helped.

Giving him a little peace of mind about whether he made the right decision shouldn’t make Derek feel like all the air was being drawn from the room as he sat, Stiles settling in next to him now that the decision was made.  Derek was suddenly painfully aware of how the story sounded as he started to talk about Kate, their relationship and why Derek had broken up with her after the plane crash.  He spoke about how he suspected something, but he hadn’t been able to identify the reason why until he took Allison away from the toxic environment Kate had her in. 

He admitted to all the times he paid Kate off.

Derek had never said the words out loud to an audience comprised of more than family and the police before, and despite the fact that Stiles knew, detailing the story in front of him in person was far different than the video had been.  Even though he’d been speaking to Stiles, visually he’d been aware that he was speaking to a camera and editing or taking back certain phrases was an option.  Not sending the video at all had been something he’d deeply considered.

Now, if something emerged from his mouth he couldn’t retrieve it, and Stiles would know everything, every small piece of his history that really shook Derek up to speak about because he couldn’t help but be running on emotions.  Kate was arrested and the man Derek was in love with was the one who made it happen.  That was secondary to the fact that his parents would finally receive justice, and that there would be a long court hearing ahead of them, dragging this entire process out in front of witnesses.

He felt like he was barely holding it together.

He couldn’t help the tremor in his hands any more than he could help the thickness of his voice as he spoke, words forming around a tongue that seemed thick and desiccated in his mouth.  Every time he said her name, he choked over the word, fingers clenching on the table in front of him.

Hesitantly, Stiles reached out, hovering uncertainly over the table between them before Derek turned his palm over.

Stiles paused for a second before closing the distance between their hands, his fingers warm against Derek’s chilled skin.

Stiles placed his hand over Derek’s, fingertips gently resting on the fleshy part of Derek’s thumb, and across the heel of his palm towards his wrist.  It wasn’t quite a hand hold, but it was comforting all the same, and Derek looked over and gave Stiles a wan smile.  Now his heart was beating audibly in his chest for a whole other reason, but he could breathe with the solidness of Stiles’ touch grounding him.  Derek was sure that it was the first time Stiles had deliberately touched him, and while he couldn’t allow himself to be hopeful that it meant more than Stiles offering comfort, just the fact that Stiles had noticed Derek enough to comprehend that he needed it, and that he was willing to offer, meant more to Derek than he realized it would.

It felt like an actual overture towards friendship, towards Derek, than anything else had.  Everything else that Stiles had done up to that point could have been because of his innate sense of justice, or it could have been for Allison (and by extension Scott) but it was never just for Derek.  Derek knew that right down to his core.

“You can see in his email,” Stiles said calmly, passing over his phone to the FBI Agent.  “Derek asked me not to tell anybody, but Kate was getting more and more aggressive with her veiled threats and I realized that she was using my family the same way she used the Hales, so I told my dad.  He wasn’t overjoyed about my plan, but then Kate started to get closer to Melissa and… well, I came up with the idea to record her.  I didn’t think it would be so easy to get her to admit anything.  I just wanted to establish a baseline for the insidiousness of her threats.”

“You father was monitoring you?”

Stiles shrugged.  “My dad was doing whatever it was he was doing in his own house and he heard what she said.  She didn’t say it under oath, but she was the one cocky enough to admit to murdering people in the Sheriff’s house.”  He leaned casually in his chair.  “She’s confessed now, hasn’t she?”

“You may still be a witness.”

Stiles grinned.  “Sure thing.  I’m prepared to do my duty for justice and world peace. We’re done, right?”

“I’ll need you to sign your statements.”

“Take your time,” Stiles responded with all the assurance of someone a little too comfortable with dealing with authority figures and Derek had a rush of affection towards him.

“Thank you,” he said when his deposition was finished, staring down at the table.  At some point he’d moved so his hand was complete enveloping Stiles’, holding tight as Stiles detailed his plan for catching Kate and Derek understood fully the risk he’d taken.  Stiles had let him clutch at his fingers while speaking, never losing his calm, self-assured demeanor.

Stiles shrugged and took his hand back, wringing his hands with tight fingers as though dispelling the sensation of Derek’s skin against his.  Stiles’ smile was wry, but there was something behind his eyes that Derek couldn’t read.

“It looked like you were going to clench your jaw so hard your teeth would break, and I have this thing about sympathy stress, so… giving you something else to clench was just as much for me as it was for you, dude.”  Stiles looked away as he said this, stretching his empty fingers and then drawing them into a fist.  He stared at his hand as though he wasn’t sure what it was supposed to feel like anymore.

“I meant for… everything,” Derek finished, staring in fascination as Stiles’ cheeks colored as he looked directly back at Derek, his eyes the dark color of old gold as their gazes locked and held. 

“It wasn’t,” Stiles answered slowly in a soft voice, blinking as though in a haze.  Then he licked his lips and turned his face away, clearing his throat.  “I did what needed to be done to protect my family.”

“Yeah,” Derek said, and suddenly his hands were sweating and he felt nervous, because Stiles wasn’t acting confident anymore.   He reached out and squeezed Stiles’ shoulder as he stood, giving what reassurance he could.  “You’re a good person.”

“I don’t know why you think so,” Stiles laughed bitterly and shook his head at Derek.  “Derek, I’m going to let you in on a secret I’m not sure you understand.  I’m an asshole.”

“Didn’t you know?” Derek asked, smirking and feeling on solid ground for the first time all day, maybe all month.  “So am I.”

x.x.x.x.

_Sometimes when I’m stressed I revisit the classics, and this week I chose Chucky.  Is there anything more laughable than a…_

Stiles broke off and stared at his script.  It was almost telling to see him with cue cards when the only times he let on that his episodes were scripted was during role play and during times of distress.  He took the paper and crumpled it into a ball before tossing it sharply across the room.

He rubbed his head, looking so uncertain for a moment before squaring his shoulders, decision made.

_…you know what, I can’t this week.  I was recently reminded that nothing that happens in horror movies is as bad as what humans can do to each other in real life.  That’s the real thing to fear._

_There’s something I need to apologize for, and it’s not the fact I missed my last video update.  That couldn’t be helped.  I’m sorry for the tone of my last video.  I broke my pact not to talk about certain things, and I’m sorry for that, but what I really want to apologize for is what I said about Derek Hale.  I said that I would make sure that he got what he deserves, but the truth is that I can’t give him what he deserves.  He doesn’t deserve the things I say about him, and he doesn’t deserve the way I’ve treated him.  He tried to give me something of himself, and I didn’t listen.  He thinks he cares about me, but he doesn’t deserve that either.  He deserves so much better than that. Than me._

_I’m so sorry._ Stiles stared at the camera, direct and breaking down that fourth wall so that it felt like it was just the two of them in a room together again.   _I’m sorry for everything._

_Most of all, I’m sorry that I can’t be the person for you, Derek._

****

****

**_x.x.x.x._ **

**_Episode 15_ **

**_x.x.x.x._ **

 

**_******_ **

_Most of all, I’m sorry I that can’t be the person for you, Derek._

He wasn’t thinking about it, he wasn’t.  He wasn’t thinking about how his feelings at hearing Stiles say something like that felt like he was walking on the edge of a blade, the sharp edges making his feet bleed but with a sense of elation that he was still alive, still balanced on that blade.  Stiles said what he said to push Derek away, and while it did give him a sense of closure to know that there wasn’t one-sided animosity anymore, Derek also had to ignore the strange delight of Stiles acknowledging him publically.

Stiles might not think he was that person for Derek, but the fact that he put thought into it and felt guilty for it… well, it was something.  Something that Derek had learned not to even hope for.

Something Derek was brutally shutting down because he wasn’t allowing the hope in, not this time.  He had to take Stiles at face value.  Stiles wasn’t the person for him, even if declaring it the way he did proved the opposite.

Derek wasn’t thinking about it.

He wasn’t.

At first, that was only true while he was working and he threw himself into his storyboard with a renewed vigor, but soon it was just truth.  Derek wasn’t thinking about it, because what happened with Stiles happened.  It was in the past, and maybe someday something would happen in the future, but today was not that day, and it was unlikely that tomorrow would be either.

“It’s about fucking time,” Laura said one evening when his phone chimed with the alert for Stiles’ newest vlog entry and Derek just silenced it.

“It’s cool that Stiles mentioned  _Therianthrope_ ,” Allison said the next morning over breakfast.

“Did he?” Derek asked.  “Good, it’s gaining traction on the internet.  Word of mouth advertising and a good viral marketing plan are key to pre-publicizing the movie before it’s even cast.”

Allison’s mouth turned down at the corners.  “Oh… that’s. Yeah, I can see that.  You haven’t watched it yet?”

“I’ll watch it at work,” he said around a mouthful of toast.  “It’s more relevant than ever.  I might bring it up at the meeting to prove that the strategy is working. Next step is the conventions.“

“You actually think that’s a good thing?” Allison asked Laura, pointing at Derek with her thumb as he shoved half a slice of toast into his mouth, and then picked up his travel mug to leave with chipmunk cheeks. 

“Well he certainly doesn’t remember his table manners,” Laura responded, “but yeah.”

Derek reached a kind of calm zen through his work, moving forward with the project quickly, but not so quickly that he compromised the quality.   He worked until he finished the draft, and then he edited that until it was either call in a second opinion or go insane second guessing himself.  He sent out an invitation for some of the leading critics in the field to read the script. An agreement was made, nondisclosure clauses were signed, and partnerships were formed.

All that was left was for Derek to share his work and wait for the feedback, and that wasn’t an easy thing for him to do.  He might have taken risks with his heart recently, more than he was used to taking, just because he’d found someone he thought was worth the risk. 

Sharing his heart and sharing his script were two very different things.  In some ways, the storyboard for  _Therianthrope_  was far more personal, and if it was rejected and stomped on, Derek wasn’t sure he’d be able to regroup.  He’d given it everything he knew to give.  He’d poured in his heart and soul, as the saying went, but he’d also given it all his creativity and intellect, wringing himself out until he wasn’t sure what there was left to give.

Then he gave that too.

In the end, he sent it, trusting enough in himself to know that this was a necessary step and would make the movie stronger for it, even if all he received back was criticism.

Derek didn’t know of any other leading horror movie critics besides Stiles.  None that he would trust with this, and who he would trust to know what they were talking about.  Stiles was the voice of a generation, and he was, in Derek’s opinion, the voice of an industry, whether he knew it or not.

And if Stiles ripped his heart out again, well Derek would rather it be someone whose opinion he could trust.

****

 _Oh my god you guys,_  Stiles said, his face animated with excitement.  _Oh my god, I still can’t believe it. I’ve just been asked to be a consulted with Lycaon Productions.  Lycaon… do you guys know what this means? Lycaon is my favourite, ok? My absolute favourite.  They have a new movie coming out that promises to get back to their werewolf roots and I’m just… I’m the consultant, guys.  They saw my vlog and…_

Stiles cleared his throat.

_I mean, I’m honoured to be selected as a forward thinking member of the horror movie community.  I will bring my expertise to the role and… fuck it! THEY PICKED ME! I get paid, and there’s the offer of a suite in Los Angeles if I want to be on site, but it can all be done over the internet, and I signed a ton of forms, like a small forest of forms, but basically I’m allowed to talk about some things once I’m done with the contract, and Lycaon doesn’t even care if the things I say are positive, so long as they’re something I already vocalized and brought up beforehand so I’m not just bashing the movie without giving them a chance to fix it and… wow, it’s like the fairest deal in all the land._

He paused for a second, head cocked to the side.  “I’m not a princess, Scott! I’m not going to find my knight in shining armor. My… eugh, I can’t think of any others.  It’s just LA, do you know how superficial the people there are?”

“Allison is there,” Scott reminded him, sticking his head in the doorway.  “Are you putting this online?”

“Why, is my bubbling enthusiasm putting you off?  It’s ok to talk about this now. I’m marginally sure.”

“Yeah, and don’t worry, Stiles. You’ll find your… Mr. Darcy.”

“Har, har!” Stiles said, picking up a book from his desk and throwing it at Scott. 

_So the moral of this fairytale, boys and girls, is I might not be as reliable about updating in the next month or so, but that’s because good things are happening. Really good things.  I’m excited and a little terrified, because what if it’s bad?   We’ve all heard the rumours about Therianthrope, that someone new is writing it, and I feel like it’s all I’ve ever wanted for a decade or more.  Like… imagine your favourite cancelled show (and I bet I can guess the one that comes to mind for most of you) is getting picked up again.  Rebooted.  Only, the original creator isn’t available, so now what?  Can it be just as good?  I think we all know what the answer we want to say is, but… I think it could be better, with a solid story and only justifiable usage of CGI. I can’t believe I’m attached to a project with this this much meaning._

Oh great, Derek realized, making a face at his computer screen.  He could see it reflected back to him, but he couldn’t, for the life of him, identify what his expression was trying to say.

He knew one thing for sure. 

Viral marketing worked.

***

**To: bossman@therianthrope.com**

**From: sstilinski@stileshorrorpictureblog.com**

**Subject: Act 1 Scene 1 action!**

Derek couldn’t open the email.  It stayed in his inbox unopened, boldly mocking him for his weaknesses because of how giddy he felt to see it, and how utterly terrified.  He got up and went for a run, but the burn in his calves and the sweat coating his skin didn’t make the email go away.  It was tempting to have all of Stiles’ emails go to someone else in the company, someone who could summarize the content, but Derek (the guy who was kind of seriously in love with Stiles) didn’t want to miss a single thing Stiles said to him, and Derek (the professional movie producer) wouldn’t allow someone else to mess up a job he took seriously.

In the end, he huffed at his foolishness and sat down in his office chair, armed with a shaky veneer of professionalism, and opened the email.

It just said:  **OH MY GOD TALK ABOUT AN OPENING SCENE! You’ve caught my attention.**

Derek grinned, hard and sharp, because as much as the first part of his personality wanted to fanboy over the fact that he’d impressed Stiles, it was the second that Stiles’ words really spoke to.

**To: sstilinski@stileshorrorpictureblog.com**

**From: bossman@therianthrope.com**

**Subject: Re: Act 1 Scene 1 action!**

**Please continue to send me reaction emails. You can send in more details later.**

The email he got in response was almost immediate.

**To: bossman@therianthrope.com**

**From: sstilinski@stileshorrorpictureblog.com**

**Subject: Re: Re: Act 1 Scene 1 action!**

**Are you sure? You don’t really know what you’d be unleashing.  Overuseage of !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! for one.  It’s good.  It’s really !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!**

Derek smiled and immediately pressed respond.

**To: sstilinski@stileshorrorpictureblog.com**

**From: bossman@therianthrope.com**

**Subject: Re: Re: Re: Act 1 Scene 1 action!**

**Yeah. Do your worst. I want to hear what you have to say. It’s important to me.**

It always was.

****

****

**_x.x.x.x._ **

**_Episode 16_ **

**_x.x.x.x._ **

 

**_******_ **

To say that Stiles was an enthusiastic emailer was like saying that Stiles’ vlog was only ok.  It was a complete and utter understatement.  Derek ended up staying awake with Stiles until 3 AM, answering emails as Stiles read through Therianthrope.

And liked it.

And while he wasn’t actually watching Stiles, he was paying attention just as much as he always did, looking for enthusiasm and hesitation in the text just as closely as he watched Stiles’ expressive facial expressions.

By the end of it, their emails were more like instant messages, but Derek didn’t want to miss a single moment of Stiles’ reaction.  He didn’t want to miss the way Stiles flailed at the plot twist, or the way he asked questions that eventually got answered by the script and not Derek himself.  He answered truthfully when Stiles uncovered a plothole Derek hadn’t noticed, and Stiles reminded him that was what he was there for.

Everyone needed a second opinion sometimes.

Stiles, ironically and painfully, seemed to get along well with a nameless, faceless Derek.

They talked until Stiles ran out of steam and had to put the script down.  Going to bed that night, Derek felt both exhilarated and apprehensive.  He hadn’t wanted Stiles to know that this opportunity was from him, but he didn’t want to miss a moment of it either.  He wasn’t sure that could be the wrong choice when it made him feel so amazing and on top of the world, if only for a few seconds.

x.x.x.x.

Derek was only in the office for a few hours when Stiles sent him a detailed email of his analysis of Act 1, Scene 1 and 2.  This was the first time that the fact Stiles was in the middle of becoming rather well educated in the field came through.  Even Derek, with all his knowledge of one Stiles Stilinski, usually forgot that Stiles was getting a college degree, maybe because Stiles hardly ever mentioned it on his vlog.  To Stiles it didn’t matter that he was going to school because it had no real bearing on how well or how much he judged bad movies.  Stiles judged bad movies before going off to gain a degree on the subject, and he’d continue to judge bad movies when he finally finished school. 

It wasn’t something he advertised, and it wasn’t something you could tell while watching him on screen.  Where Stiles in motion was partially enthusiasm, partially effective body language and repose, and a whole lot of slang, Stiles’ writing was methodical and detailed and professional.

In other words, far more impressive than Derek thought possible, considering he was already impressed by the things Stiles did.  Derek had anticipated the need to clean up the text and occasionally ask for clarification, but even Stiles’ habit of misusing words in context didn’t seem to come up as often in his writing, at least as far as Derek could tell.

The fact that Stiles had gotten just as much sleep as Derek had and was still sending out this kind of analysis made Derek fiercely proud, even though it wasn’t his right to be.  A lot of people had been against his decision, and even Derek wasn’t sure if it was the right choice to make or if he was blinded by their history, but this… this proved that his faith wasn’t misplaced.

He sent Stiles back a quick note of thanks, asked him to include a point-form executive summary in the next analysis, and then forwarded the email off to the staff along with his own notes.  Stiles hadn’t always been kind in his feedback, but he’d been fair and the outcome was a lot better than Derek thought it would be.

Stiles didn’t hate Derek’s movie.

It shouldn’t matter, but if Derek had ever tried to tell himself differently, he was lying to himself.

x.x.x.x.

Derek woke up to a chime on his phone that told him that Stiles had posted something new on his vlog.  Groaning in exhaustion but apprehensive, he clicked on the link and watched as Stiles came up on his screen.  As the video was loading he could see the still image of the first frame: Stiles, hair a mess, in pajamas and holding the movie script in his hands in front of him like a shield.

In Derek’s experience, if Stiles had something to say to the point of saying it despite his vlogging schedule, it hardly ever went well for him.  In fact, some of Stiles’ only asides went very very badly for one Derek Hale.

He rubbed his eyes and blinked at the time, waiting for the video to load.  He was tempted to take his phone off wifi mode so it would go faster, but it was three in the morning and the fact he was able to press the play button after being woken up from a dead sleep was impressive.  Better not tempt fate by doing anything too complex, he’d probably end up dropping his phone on his face and breaking the screen against one of his cheekbones.

“I have to share this,” Stiles said, grinning, holding the script in front of him.  The script that Stiles had written all over the cover in red.  First circling the name of the movie with “Why?” and then crossing that out and putting “ALJFOAJFAKJFA!!!”

He literally wrote out a string of letters.  Stiles was unique.

Derek might just throw up.  This was so much worse on his nerves than asking Stiles out.

Stiles then schooled his face into a stern, unhappy expression.  “This movie.   ** _This movie.”_**   He jabbed at the script.

“OH MY GOD!” Stiles flailed, hitting himself on the face with the script.  “I JUST FINISHED IT AND IT’S BRILLIANT AND THAT IS ALL I HAVE TO SAY ON THE MATTER.”

Then the screen went dark.  That was really all Stiles had to say.

Derek grinned in the dark, hiding the smile in his pillow as he settled back into a comfortable sleeping position.  He shuffled his feet a little against the cool sheets at the bottom of his bed as he found his comfortable spot.  He couldn’t stop smiling. 

Yeah, he’d done that.

****

****

**_x.x.x.x._ **

**_Episode 17_ **

**_x.x.x.x._ **

 

**_*********_ **

_“Ok, no spoilers, I promise,” Stiles said, putting his hand over his heart as he faced the camera.  “I signed a waver and everything, but I can promise all you horror movie buffs and werewolf enthusiasts, that it’s good. **Really good**.  I asked for a copy of the original script and I can honestly say that whoever created the storyboard knows what they’re doing.  I wouldn’t have made better decisions in a lot of cases if I was the one creating it.  Perfect? No, of course not.  But I think the guy I’ve been in contact with is the actual director and producer of the thing, and he’s brilliant.  _

_Like, really really really brilliant.  A visionary.  This has the potential to be better than all the previous Lycaon movies._

_And for some reason he’s actually listening to my input.  I thought this was some kind of… I don’t know, scam?”_  Stiles questioned the screen.   _“No, that’s not the right word. I thought they’d bring me in as a consultant in name only, but I’ve already seen adjustments in just the first week I’ve been working on the movie.  Adjustments I’ve recommended.  And not just that, they’re not following me blindly.  The guy actually tells me why he’s making different decisions sometimes and this whole experience is just really positive.”_

_“Listen to me. I’m practically waxing poetics.”_

x.x.x

“Ok Hale, I’ll admit bringing the kid in was a good idea.  Not just for the free publicity.”

“But?” Derek asked his media consultant.

“But, we need to use him for free publicity.  So far after every one of his vlog entries the traffic on the website has gone up. People are buying the digital versions of old movies from iTunes.  Whispers are starting about casting calls.  Now is the time to push forward.  I’ve scheduled you into a panel at WEREcon next month.  It would be smart if you invited the vlogger.”

Derek had no idea how to respond to that.  He could say with almost absolute certainty that Stiles probably had no idea that Derek and the guy he was emailing were the same person.  He didn’t want to have to tell him.  Stiles actually liked him  _somewhere_ , even if it was online, and though it felt dishonest, it also felt like a second chance that might get ruined if Stiles thought that Derek was trying to pull one over on him.  

Laura sometimes joked that Derek made the worst decisions, and he was in the middle of one right now. It had been a terrible decision not to be straight from the start about who Stiles was emailing.  Derek had hoped Stiles might not immediately make the connection between DH and Derek Hale, but he suspected that Stiles would eventually put it together.

“What if I say no?” Derek questioned.  He was the boss.  If he said no, then the answer would be…

“The movie needs this, Derek.”

x.x.x.

**To: bossman@therianthrope.com**

**From: sstilinski@stileshorrorpictureblog.com**

**Subject: om nom**

Can I marry your brain? Or eat it? Oh my God, how did you come up with this scene change?  It’s brilliant!!

**To: sstilinski@stileshorrorpictureblog.com**

**From: bossman@therianthrope.com**

**Subject: RE: om nom**

If you marry me for my brain, you have to marry the rest of me too.                        

**To: bossman@therianthrope.com**

**From: sstilinski@stileshorrorpictureblog.com**

**Subject: RE: RE: om nom**

Yeah? It might be worth it.

**To: sstilinski@stileshorrorpictureblog.com**

**From: bossman@therianthrope.com**

**Subject: RE: RE: RE: om nom**

Lycaon has been invited to do a panel at WEREcon and I’d like for you to be involved with the Q&A with me.  On the company dime.  Info attached.

x.x.x

_“So I’ve been invited to a thing, and you’ll never guess what.  The director and… well, I think he’s the overall boss of Lycaon asked me to be part of a panel at the werewolf convention in Los Angeles in a month.  I don’t know if he’s jumping the gun or not.  I haven’t even finished analyzing the movie.  It’s possible that by that time he’ll hate me because there’s a scene coming up that I’m going to be critiquing the hell out of.  I’m not saying it’s bad, but it could be so much better.  I don’t know if my input will be as welcome for something like that as it has been for the generally positive stuff.  In convention time, a month is coming up really quick and this is actually short notice, but in constructive criticism and professional relationship time, anything can happen in a month._

_I don’t know if I’m going to accept.  On the one hand – Los Angeles.  Scott can visit with **the lady love** , and we can see all the Hales.  If the hotel accommodations provided by Lycaon don’t work out, we could probably stay with them… or, well, Scott would be welcome, I’m sure.  _

_On the same hand – this is an amazing opportunity for my professional career! Like… a chance of a lifetime, and I don’t know why this is all happening for me at once.  Part of me is saying it’s because I’ve finally made it, all the hard work I’ve put into everything is paying off.  The other part of me is saying… well, I don’t know.  I have nothing.  There’s no negative here that I can see, but there’s something nagging at me and I can’t put my finger on it._

_There’s no way I’m saying no, though.  It all looks very legit._

_You guys will all come and support me, right?  I can’t wait to talk to all of you about this movie, and I’m really excited to meet the elusive owner of Lycaon.  His emails are all so great, so I think you’ll like him too.  I should probably do a bit of research on the company so I know more about it, but meh, that’s tomorrow Stiles’ problem._

_“WEREcon! I’ll see you there,”_  Stiles winked.

“Oh no,” Laura said, getting a good look at Derek’s face.  “Are you dying?”

x.x.x.

_“So it seems like no time has passed at all, but I’m here in LA and I’m trying a live session today on my new website, bought with the money I got from Lycaon. Fun, right?  I can see that I have a few viewers.  Hi mom and dad._

_I haven’t read any of these before, but Allison printed me out a bunch of articles about Lycaon Productions, so I should probably read them before heading out to the panel this afternoon.  It’s one thing to work for them, but quite another to meet the head honcho face to face. I realized I know all these stats about the success of the company, but absolutely nothing about the guy who runs it. Not really even his name. He’s really charming and funny, but also incredibly professional. I don’t know how he puts up with my emails all the time, but, well… I think the fact that he does is one of the reasons I’m out here.  So let’s see…”_

**_Another successful movie by David Hale…_ **

_“So that’s what DH stands for.  Hale. Huh. Most of these are dated from 2001.  Wow, guess that means that flirting wasn’t a thing happening.  Or… well, that’s sketchy.”_

**_A plane crash claimed the lives of David and Talia Hale last Thursday, leading to an uncertain future for Lycaon Productions and their upcoming feature production with Cake Robot.  This bloggers is sure that neither Derek nor Laura are fit to step into their parents’ shoes.  The movie will be a disaster.  Thanks a fucking lot, Hales._ **

_“Holy shit,”_  Stiles said, eyes wide. He didn’t move for a moment, terribly still in shock. Then, all the papers dropped from his hand and scattered all over his desk.  They fell out of view as he put his head in his hands, breathing harshly. “Scott!  SCOTTTTTTttttttt.”

“What?” Scott questioned, slamming in through the door. “Are you having a panic attack?” He hovered nervously at Stiles’ elbow. _“Breathe!”_

“I can’t.  I can’t do this.  I can’t go this afternoon.  I can’t. I… oh fuck,” Stiles said, reaching up and grabbing Scott’s lapel.  “It’s Derek.”

“What’s wrong with Derek?” Scott asked, immediately concerned.

“Derek Hale? Owner of Lycaon Productions?  The guy I’ve been emailing with for the past three months and who invited me to the werewolf convention to do a panel with him? That Derek Hale!”

“Stiles…” Scott was frowning at him.  “That’s…”

“Did you know…? Fuck, Derek Hale is  **my idol**. He asked me out.  He sat in my bedroom with his heart in his hands and I stomped on it, and he’s  **my professional idol**.  I turned him down and he turned around and hired me.  After all that.”  Stiles inhaled sharply, the sound wheezing through his lungs.  “Oh my god, I don’t know what to do.”

“Well, at least you know that you didn’t sleep your way to the top?”

“I hate you,” Stiles groaned.  “I hate everyone.  I hate myself.  I didn’t see this coming at all. You all said ‘Derek likes horror movies too’ and I laughed at the idea as though he couldn’t love them like I do.  Derek doesn’t just love horror movies.  Derek is the face of horror movies.  He and his perfect face, and I couldn’t even see it.”

“Are you live?” Scott said with dawning horror as his face took in the screen in front of him.  

“What?” Stiles asked, lifting his head.  “Oh motherfu…”

x.x.x.

“How about this time?” Laura questioned in a sarcastic tone.  “Are you dead this time?  Can you move?”

“I didn’t mean for this to happen live,” Allison said, crouching in front of Derek.  Derek blinked at her.  “He just blinked.”

x.x.x.x.

Derek expected Stiles to back out of the convention panel he promised to attend, but it never happened.  Part of him was glad that Stiles had found out beforehand because he couldn’t imagine the scene if they’d walked into the panel from different sides of the stage area.  Stiles would have loudly demanded to know why Derek was there, and that’s how he would have found out.  It sounded horrible, but at the same time less people would have bore witness to the event.  Now it was all over the internet, and their Q&A session went from being one of the least popular to sold out in the span of two hours.

Derek expected to hear from Stiles apologizing for not being able to make it.  He expected to hear that Stiles had checked out of his hotel room and cashed in his ticket home.  He expected to hear that he was doing the Q&A alone.

He didn’t expect to hear Stiles from across the courtyard café on the back deck of the hotel.

His laugh echoed through the outdoor patio, loud and rich and exuberant.  Derek turned away from the potential investor he was talking to and immediately looked towards the crowd.  He spotted Stiles immediately, standing next to Scott and chatting with a pretty red-head, and he took a step backwards, away from the idea of Stiles laughing with someone else in a way he’d never felt comfortable enough to do around Derek.

Stiles looked away from her for a second, eyes scanning the area for a place to sit, and their eyes met across the expanse of space. Time seemed to freeze for a moment as Derek waited for Stiles to react by turning in the opposite direction.

Stiles took a step towards him and Derek immediately took a step backwards, his foot hitting the edge of the fountain.  Before he could regain his balance, he was pitching backwards into the water with a rush of imagery of the people around him, flashes of colors and faces and the stone work of the fountain itself before he went under the two feet of water.  His elbow hit first, then his head, the water doing very little to temper the blow.  

He automatically gasped at the pain, inhaling water.  For a moment he thought he was drowning in front of everybody, but then he regained control of his limbs and surged into a sitting position, coughing and gasping for air.

“Derek!” Stiles’ voice had him turning in that direction, automatically seeking him out even as he sputtered to breathe through the water dripping down his face.

“Derek!” Stiles said again, pushing one of the people who had crowded around to check on him out of the way.  He was immediately kneeling on the side of the fountain, his knees soaking up the wake of water Derek had left when he fell in.  

“I’m fine,” Derek said, pushing off the slimy bottom of the fountain and getting to his feet.  Stiles stared at him as he stood, mouth hanging open.

“You sure are… I mean, are you sure?” Stiles asked. Derek wasn’t sure he could read the dumbstruck expression on Stiles’ face.  He’d never really seen it before, except in the second Stiles had realized that the person from Lycaon and Derek Hale were one in the same.  Then Stiles licked his lips and dragged his eyes over Derek’s body.  “Your shirt is soaked,” he said, and then laughed as Derek frowned and dragged the white button up away from his body.

“I should go change,” Derek responded, feeling his cheeks heat up slightly at Stiles’ frank perusal.  Oh. Wow. He didn’t know how to actually react to something he’d wanted for so long it seemed like a dumb pipe dream now.  Now that he’d witnessed Stiles freak out about who he was on a live podcast.  

“Wow, smooth Stilinski,” Stiles muttered as Derek sloshed out of the fountain.  Stiles seemed to be staring up at him as Derek spilled water all over the stonework in an attempt to get out.  He flailed a little until strong fingers curled around his elbow and Stiles was guiding him over the lip of the fountain.  “Your head is bleeding,” Stiles said, moving Derek into a sitting position and making him lean forward.

“Ow,” Derek said as Stiles prodded the back of his scalp.

“It’s not bad but you should get a disinfectant for it. It might need a few stitches.” Stiles had Derek’s head between his hands, staring down at him in a way that made Derek completely unaware of the tender spot on the back of his head.  Stiles was so close, and he didn’t seem in a hurry to move away.

“Thanks,” Derek said softly, reaching up and grabbing Stiles’ hands as they slid off his head.

Stiles cleared his throat and backed up a step. “Did you watch the live stream today?”

“I… yeah, I watch everything you do.”

Stiles snorted.  “That’s not vaguely creepy or anything,” he answered thoughtfully. “I’m sorry.  This whole place is clearly where you belong.  The movie is yours.  I never should have come here.”

“I invited you,” Derek answered in confusion.  “I brought you into this. If I didn’t want you to be here, you wouldn’t be.”

“I don’t know why,” he answered in a soft tone.  “Not after the way I treated you.”

“Because you’re the best, Stiles.”  The answer was simple, and even after all the moments Stiles just brought up, it was still very simple.  “You bring a fresh perspective to an old game we’ve all gotten complacent with.  I needed someone who wouldn’t allow  _Therianthrope_  to just be another werewolf movie.  I needed someone who knew how to make it better, who knew what to look for and how to fix it, and from the very first time I saw your blog, that was you.  The rest doesn’t matter.  The rest is my ego.  The movie is more than that.”

“It still matters,” Stiles answered, staring at him with a thoughtful expression.  “It doesn’t just go away.”

Derek didn’t know how to explain this to him.  “It means less to me.  All the stuff between us is my problem, but Lycaon is what’s left of the Hale family legacy, and Kate Argent may have taken away the people who mattered to the company, but for those of us who are left, the company is what matters to us.  So no, it doesn’t matter.  Not for this conversation, at least.  I put it behind me so I could do the right thing by my company and the people who work for me.  It doesn’t matter.”

“It’s…”

“Derek,” Allison exclaimed, breaking through the crowd with Scott fast on her heels.  He remembered seeing Scott standing next to Stiles right before he went under, so it wasn’t very difficult to figure out where he had disappeared to.  “Oh,” she said, taking in Stiles’ hand in his hair.  Derek was suddenly acutely aware of all the ways he and Stiles were touching – the hand in his hair, his hand braced against the side of the fountain so that his fingers were brushing Stiles’ thigh, the way their knees were pressed together.  Usually, he was hyper observant of their individual spaces, but there was something about getting everything off his chest that made him block all that out.  Maybe it was rage, or maybe it was perspective, but it suddenly hit him that Stiles had seem him at his most vulnerable a few times now and that it didn’t even matter to him.

Allison suddenly seemed uncertain standing there, Scott taking in the tableau with raised eyebrows.

“I need to change before the panel,” Derek said brusquely, brushing off Stiles’ touch as he stood. His knee immediately felt cold, and he missed the comfort of Stiles’ hand in his hair.  He was suddenly aware of how much his head hurt.  “Thank you for your help,” he nodded, but couldn’t bring himself to smile.  He didn’t want to be completely rude.  Stiles wasn’t the enemy, but he couldn’t believe all the things he’d managed to say. He wasn’t sure if his head was pounding because of the injury or if it was all the honesty.  “I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

Stiles nodded, staring up at him with an intent kind of expression that made Derek dizzy.

Or maybe that was just the blow to the head.

x.x.x.

 

“So Stiles, are you and Derek going to date now?  That’s what all of us are here to know.”  It wasn’t their first question, but it was the first that wasn’t easy to answer that wasn’t based on the discussion about  _Therianthrope._

Derek exchanged a look with Stiles.  

“Whoa,” Stiles said. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. Yes, I was surprised today but with all the history between us, I think if we went on to date right now that would be a bad decision bear.”

“Besides,” Derek joked into the microphone.  “Who said that  _I_  want to date  _him_?”

“Do you?” Someone asked.

“A lot has happened,” Derek said with a shrug.  “ _Therianthrope_  is about to go into official production. Stiles and I both need to keep focused on the movie or else it might turn into a sappy love story like some of the recent werewolf movies in the past few years.  We’re not in the market for one sided love triangles.”

Some people groaned, but Derek felt decently confident that it was a good joke from the way Stiles smirked at him.

“Is there any romance in it at all?” Another member of the audience asked.

“Derek had a heavy hand in shaping the story into what it is,” Stiles reminded them, leaning into the mic.  “I think most of us have seen his idea of romance.  I mean, he’s a pretty romantic guy, right?”

“That’s a yes,” Derek continued.  “At the core,  _Therianthrope_  has romantic elements, but not in the way we’ve seen them develop in recent popular movies. This isn’t a story about teenage puppy love.”

“But,” Stiles continued from his place half-sprawled over the table.  “For you people in the audience who like a good shirtless scene, don’t worry.  Our lead male character takes his shirt off at least once in the script.”

Derek smirked back at him, enjoying the way Stiles claimed the main character was theirs.  He meant the company’s, but it felt nice. “Maybe Stiles will volunteer to sit in on casting auditions so he can judge their abs for himself.”

“While that would be fun, the funnest, really,” Stiles answered, looking at Derek with intent focus. “I feel like they’d all be at a disadvantage if I was comparing them to yours.”

The room seemed to pause in the space between heart beats as Derek inhaled and his pulse started to race from the compliment.  He looked back at Stiles evenly, expecting for him to suddenly realize what he said, but Stiles was giving him this knowing look, a slight pleased turn to his lips, like what he said had been entirely deliberate, and now he was enjoying Derek’s reaction.

Half of the audience went wild.  Derek had no idea what was going on.

“Does anyone else have a question?” Stiles asked before the moderator could step in.  He finished it with a wink.  Stiles was spectacularly good at this for someone who hadn’t grown up on the press circuit.  

From the front someone stood up and Derek immediately knew the type.  It wasn’t one of the fans of his work, nor one of the many fans Stiles seemed to have brought with him.  Instead, it was someone trying to cause shit.

“There’s a picture that showed up on Twitter of the two of you sitting by the fountain.  Stiles looks  shocked.  Is it true that you fired him after his outburst online earlier?”

“No.” Derek answered with finality, trying to close down the line of thought immediately.  Beside him Stiles looked a little confused at the sudden change of atmosphere in the room.

“So it doesn’t bother you that a member of your team said those things about you over the internet?”

“Has it  _ever_  bothered me what Stiles has said online? He kept to the agreement not to talk about the movie, so as far as I’m concerned the rest of it isn’t any of my business as the person who hired him as a consultant.”

“But isn’t it true that…”

“Ok, I think some of you need to know the truth of what happened today,” Stiles said, interrupting with a friendly smile.  “I saw Derek Hale wet, and his abs look like they were hmmmm,” Stiles said with an exaggerated moan and shiver.  “Hewn from marble.  Like seriously, whatever you’re doing, Derek, keep it up.  Is it the running?  Because damn.”

“Running after you, maybe,” Derek answered automatically and then froze as Stiles stared at him in horror. “Uh…”

“Oh my god,” Stiles answered in delight, cackling in Derek’s face.  He looked away, his hand over his mouth as his shoulders shook in mirth.  “I’m sorry I’m laughing.  This is so awkward, quick, someone change the subject.”

Derek could see on the monitor behind them that both of them were looking away from each other.

Someone seemed to take pity on them.  “Derek, what was your favourite movie as a child? And what does it mean for the new movie?”

“Mom used to tell me the story about how she wrote  _Lukánthropos_  based on fevered dreams she had during complications of her pregnancy for me.  When I was younger I used to feel like I had a part in shaping it.  Now, I think, that memory has shaped me.”

Stiles’ attention snapped to him the moment he mentioned the title of the movie and stayed on him the entire time.  Derek knew what Stiles was remembering, what he had now learned about Derek that was one of the first things Derek liked about Stiles and was ultimately, at the core of it, one of the things they had in common.  

“Will you show us your abs?”

“Uh.”  He really rather wouldn’t, but the session was going to well.  Any hiccups immediately had been smoothed over, and in the long run lifting his shirt wasn’t that big of a deal.

Stiles looked at him, and then back at the audience.  “Well, I’m sure you meant Derek, but Derek’s a very private guy so I’ll just show you mine,” he said, getting to his feet and pulling his shirt up.  He left it raised for a few seconds and then lowered it again.  “They’re not as good, but not bad, right?  I’ve been working on them pretty diligently for almost a week now!”

The audience laughed.

Fuck, Derek decided. Fuck.  He should have just went along with it, then he wouldn’t have a mental picture of the line of hair leading down from Stiles’ navel, bracketed by his hip bones and forming a clear arrow directly to a point that Derek was suddenly and madly interested in seeing.  The thing with Stiles was rarely just about physical attraction, but in that moment it was all Derek could think about: what it would be like to trace the exposed area with his tongue, to stand behind Stiles and slide his fingers down the line of him until his hand was tracing the line of Stiles’ cock and Stiles’ head was resting on his shoulder, harsh breath in his ear and the taste of sweat on his tongue.

“Stiles, how do you feel about the fact that your career hasn’t been based on skill after all, but because Derek Hale wants to fuck you?”

“What?” Stiles asked, going white.

Derek’s head snapped towards the speaker.  “You’re crazy if you think that I would compromise my movie by hiring someone subpar,” Derek said into the mic, grabbing it so violently that the feedback resounded around the room.  “This movie is more than me.  It’s a tribute to my parents and their legacy.  If this movie isn’t successful, I will be closing down Lycaon Productions. The only reason it’s still open after doing so poorly was that it was the only part of our fortune that my parents were actively involved in, and they loved it more than I can even express. Sentiment is only so powerful, so everything hinges on this.  I don’t give a fuck if Stiles likes me or not, because the movie is more important than getting in his pants.  I needed the best, so I hired Stiles.  It was a strategic move for the company.  If you’ve watched his vlog you’d know how good he is at tearing apart tropes that we’ve all become complacent with.  He’s here for his brain.”

“I think,” Stiles said slowly once Derek was finished, “that we need to consider egos here.  Would you hire someone who had just humiliated you on Youtube?  I wouldn’t. I’m not worried about Derek having ulterior motives for giving me this job, because that isn’t the way Derek thinks. He could have ruined me, and most of the people in this room would have at least considered it.  So no, to answer your incredibly offensive question, I’m not concerned about it, I don’t believe the insinuation for one moment, and if I see that rumour going around anywhere, I will take personal affront to it.”

****

****

**_x.x.x.x._ **

**_Episode 18_ **

**_x.x.x.x._ **

 

“You know,” Stiles said, wandering into Derek’s office.  He picked up a little werewolf figurine and toyed with the arms, setting them into a pose that made the werewolf look like it was aiming for a hug rather than a scare. His eyes took in all the posters on the wall as he turned a full circle.  “I probably would have agreed to marry you if you had shown me this room.”

 “I…” Derek started to say, his mouth open to finish the sentence when he realized he actually didn’t have a response to that.  If Stiles had agreed to date him, it wouldn’t be impossible for it to be partially his someday, but. 

Well. 

That was unfair.

 “I’m sorry,” Stiles blurted out, “that was insensitive of me.  Let me try again.  Derek. I really like this room.”

 “Thank you,” Derek responded, to be polite.  “Was there something you wanted to talk about?”

 “Not really,” Stiles shrugged, picking up a signed baseball on the desk and tossing it back and forth in his hands.  “So this is where the magic happens, huh?”

 “Some of it.  I try to get most of it done at work.”

 Stiles bit out a laugh. “I think that’s a blatant lie,” he said, slipping into the seat across from Derek and leaning forward so his elbows were braced on his knees.  From the corner of his eye, Derek could see Laura walk in the room and stop, taking in the scene in front of her.

 “Is it?”  Derek questioned, ignoring his sister.

 “Yeah, I think I got too many email responses at 11 pm for that.  It’s a shame Scott and I leave tomorrow.  It woulda been cool to see how we work together in person.”

 Derek smiled and looked down.  “I would have liked that.”  It sounded perfect, actually.

 “Well, maybe Skype now that you’re not trying to hide your identity from me…” Stiles leaned back in the chair, looping his arm around the back of it.  He turned his body just enough that Laura was visible, and it seemed to startle him to have a witness.  “Oh, hey Laura.  I’ll just get gone then.” 

And then he was on his feet and out of Derek’s office. 

“Sorry,” Laura said, but she didn’t look like she meant it.

 x.x.x.x.

“I really want to go back to Beacon Hills,” Allison said the next week at breakfast, stirring her yogurt with a discontent, melancholic sigh. If she didn’t miss Scott so much, Derek would assume Laura had a hand in it. “Do you think we can go up?  For the weekend, maybe?” 

“ _Therianthrope_ goes into production soon,” Derek reminded her with regret, though after everything that had happened with Stiles recently, he wanted that too.  He would foolishly follow a boy back to his hometown for another smile because Derek was sad and pathetic. 

 “Which means it’ll be at least six months before we can go back,” she pointed out.   

“You and Laura can go without me.”

 Laura made a face at him. Derek was tempted to make a face back at her. 

So he did. 

“In fact,” Derek continued. “Why don’t you stay there for a while? I’ll be working 80 hour weeks and at one point we’ll be shooting on location, so you can come back then if you’re tired of the idyllic countryside.”  He directed the last bit towards Laura.

 “Really?” Allison questioned, jumping up to hug him from behind.  “Thanks Der.”

 “She didn’t even ask me if I was ok with it,” Laura said, watching as Allison hurried off to pack. “Does she expect to leave right now?”

 Derek shrugged and smirked, taking a bite from his toast.  “Have fun in Beacon Hills.”

 “Oh no,” Laura said, pointing her finger at him.  “You’re coming up for a few days or both of us will stay here and I’ll start boxing up your werewolf figurines and send them to Stiles as presents.  He’s seen them now.  He’ll know who they’re from.”

 As far as threats went, that one wasn’t very effective.  It was actually a fantastic idea.  Stiles would love… “Okay,” Derek blinked, surprised by his train of thought.  “Okay.”  He could afford to take the weekend for himself at this stage and the best way could think of to spend it was to maybe get a chance to talk to Stiles in person, because every second he spent with Stiles felt like something new, and Derek didn’t know how to say no to that.

 .x.x.x.

 Derek finished lap ten when he realized he had a spectator, and he slowed his breaststroke to a crawl. Stiles was watching him from the side of the pool, tapping his foot like he was impatient, but also with no intention of actually stopping Derek.  His keen eyes were fixed on Derek’s back, and even though Derek was kind of really bad at figuring out cues, he knew Stiles was checking him out.

Again.

 “I hope this isn’t strange,” Stiles said, handing Derek a towel as he pulled himself out of the pool, water sloshing around him as his arms supported his weight.  He easily brought a leg up and used it to help himself stand, showing off a little at his ability to get his foot right on the edge of the pool and practically step out with a push of both his arms and his leg, going from in the water to standing in about two seconds.

 Stiles inhaled sharply as he handed the towel over, clearing his throat as Derek used it to swipe off his arms and face, before rubbing it over his chest.  He could feel water trailing down his legs from his swim pants, and he had a moment to wonder if they had dislodged and he was giving Stiles an eyeful, but he thought that Stiles’ expression would be very different than it was. For some reason, Derek thought Stiles would leer, not flush slightly and look away from Derek entirely.  

 “It’s not strange,” Derek assured him, moving to put his shirt back on.  It stuck a little to his damp skin, his hair dripping onto the collar almost immediately.  “Nothing you haven’t seen before,” he mentioned in an offhanded tone, sitting in one of the chairs on the desk.

 “Uh… yeah,” Stiles answered quietly, sitting beside him.  “Only the opposite of nothing I haven’t seen before.”

 There was a compliment in there somewhere, Derek thought, looking over at Stiles.  Maybe.

 “Everyone went to get sushi in the next town over and I came back to see if you wanted to come with us.”

 “Sushi?” Derek questioned.

 “Best in the area,” Stiles answered, fidgeting with a fray on the hem of his shirt.  “Which means it’s only mediocre, and we both know how discerning your palate is,” he finished in a teasing tone, seemingly regaining his equilibrium.

 “Mine?” Derek answered. “Remembering the rules you have about food would take a study guide.”

 Something crossed Stiles’ features.  “But you do remember them, don’t you?” he asked in an amazed tone.  “You do.  You did.”

 “I…”

 “Never mind,” Stiles finished, getting to his feet.  “Do you want sushi or not?  Because I’m really hungry.”

 “You didn’t have to come back for me.”

 “I don’t even know why I bothered,” Stiles answered in a self-defeated tone.  “Of course you don’t want to come.  Mediocre sushi isn’t exactly a major draw to get you to come out with us.”

“Wait,” Derek said desperately, reaching for Stiles.  “You’re right, it’s not, but I’ll come.  I don’t mind spending time with all of you.”  Stiles specifically.  If he could just convince Stiles to stay with him instead of joining everyone else, it would make Derek’s entire week, but Stiles never had wanted to spend time with just Derek, and Derek didn’t know why that would change entirely.

Stiles paused, really looking at him.  “You should put on pants,” he finally said.

 Derek wasn’t sure what he was doing.  He didn’t even care for sushi, had never been able to get into it no matter how popular it was in Los Angeles.  The moment he stepped into the restaurant, his sisters would know the real reason he agreed, and it didn’t really bother him after months of them knowing the things he’d do for Stiles, but it made him feel a bit pathetic because he received just a tiny bit of attention and was ready to drop his plans for the afternoon for the guy he was in love with.

 But, as he considered this, he wondered why Stiles had come back to get him when both Laura and Allison knew how he felt about the type of food they were eating.  He didn’t know what the story was there, and could barely even hazard a guess, but shouldn’t they have stopped Stiles?  If this was really about food, shouldn’t someone have said something?  That told him that one of his sisters (or both of them) had deliberately kept silent, which was practically unheard of unless they wanted him to spend time with Stiles.

 The catch there was that neither of them really cared to allow him to be alone with Stiles, not since Stiles broke his heart on the internet.  They’d warmed up to him after the panel, but he didn’t think that they’d come so far as to actually encourage Stiles to come get him for sushi.  

That left the possibility that Stiles was acting alone and hadn’t told anyone he was coming to see Derek, which seemed even more unlikely than the first option.  But… not as unlikely as Derek would have assumed.  He pulled on a pair of jeans quickly at the idea, hurrying back downstairs to find Stiles poking at his digital movie collection streaming to the PS4.

 “Would you like to get pizza instead?” Derek asked, pulling on his leather jacket.  “I hear there’s a great place in town.”

 Stiles looked up quickly and then grinned at him.  “Yeah,” he said, dropping the controller on the table.  “I’d like that.  You’ll love it.  They even passed the testing from the FDA.”

 Yeah, Derek would take that risk in order to spend time with Stiles.  What was one more risk, really?  Eating a bit of pizza because Stiles liked it wasn’t a big deal in the long run.  “Have you had it since?” 

“No way,” Stiles laughed. “Scott still gets nauseated at the scent of dough and cheese, but Scott’s sensitive.  So sensitive, dad had pizza pockets for lunch one day and Scott could smell it on his breath and almost yacked.  I should train him to scent out all foods dad shouldn’t be eating.” 

“Scott puked in front of Allison.  I think he’s justified in still being a little wary.” 

“I’m sorry I missed it,” Stiles agreed, getting to his feet.  “Just let me,” he trailed off, pulling his phone out of his pocket and typing on it.  “There, now they’re not waiting for me.  It’s time for pizza.” 

x.x.x.x. 

_It was strange.  We had lunch and he told me about the time he played a mini werewolf in one of his folks’ movies, even credited on IMDB, and the time Laura took one of the props and scared her entire fourth grade class, and how instead of decorating for Christmas like everyone else in their neighbourhood did, his father decked their entire Bel Air mansion out for Halloween.  He didn’t even wince when eating the pizza, and he laughed at my dumb jokes.  He’s really snarky.  I didn’t really notice that before._

_I think I like him as a person._

_And remember when I said that it looked like his abs were legion in quality beneath his shirt?  Well I’ve seen them now.  I’m going to have to grade celebrities on the Derek Hale scale, which seems really unfair because celebs are basically paid to develop abs, and his are still better. What is life?  I feel like I’ve been lied to.  Normal people just aren’t supposed to look the way he does and not have some kind of work out addiction and unhealthy aversion to pizza.  And ok, so now I’m rambling judgmentally about ab muscles… but wow._  

“Admit it,” Scott said, sticking his head in the door.  “I think you kind of like him, fess up.” 

“I did!” Stiles exclaimed, throwing a book at Scott’s head.  “I already said that.” 

“I don’t just mean as a person.”  Scott laughed.  “You  _like_  him.  Someone is in denial.” 

“Shut up Scott!” 

“I don’t  _LIKE_  him,” Stiles said to the camera.  “I just really hate the fact that I didn’t give him a chance before.  I know, I know I already admitted that I’m an asshole, but wow, that’s what he meant when he said that I don’t give first chances, let alone second ones.  If I had given him a first chance instead of jumping to conclusions….” He trailed off uncertainly. 

“Well, I didn’t, so it doesn’t matter.”

x.x.x. 

Production was set to start on  _Therianthrope,_ and Derek felt like he was going insane trying to perfect it.He still managed to eke out time for Stiles’ vlog.

He probably always would. 

x.x.x. 

“Hi, I’m Scott, Stiles’s brother.  You can see him lounging on his bed behind me all lacksidasial with exhaustion from finishing his final review of the  _Therianthrope_  movie.  He said I could do today’s vlog, with his supervision of course.  The thing is, I don’t have much to say about horror movies besides “scary” or “not so scary” so I was thinking we could re-enact some of my favourites with the sock puppets.  So I have the Derek Hand puppet and the Philes Philanges puppet, and there were probably a few more puppets at one time but for some reason these were already out on Stiles’ desk when I got here.  Better desk than nightstand, right?” Scott attempted a wink. 

“Scott!” Stiles called out from the bed.  “Don’t!” 

“Really?” Scott retorted, facing away from the camera.  “I thought it was a good one.” 

“Yeah, ok.  It was,” Stiles conceded.  “No more, though.  I’m trying to nap.” 

“So as I was saying,” Scott said, returning his face towards the camera.  “Movie re-enactments.  What do you think?  Jaws? Dah-nuh Dah-nuh.” Scott made Philes chase Derek around the screen with his mouth opening and closing like pacman.   

“Segueing into Sharknado! That’s horrifying, right?” Scott said, spinning Philes through the air.  “ _Oh no Shark! Don’t eat me!_ ” Scott made Derek Hand say.   

“ _Charles, what a deprived childhood you must have had_ ,” Scott continued with the Philes character.  “I guess we’re doing X-Men: First Class now.” 

“That’s not a horror movie,” Stiles said from his place on the bed, his head hanging over the side of the mattress so he was watching Scott upside down.  “But awesome reference.” 

“I had a perfectly pleasant childhood, thank you,” Scott finished with Derek Hand.  “But it is a truth universally acknowledged that I am a rich asshole in need of a wife.” 

“Not it!” Philes said. “Even if you are attractive, Mr. Derekcy.” 

“What?” Stiles said from the bed, sitting up with a jolt. 

“Ok, StiLizzie. But I will love you from afar anyway.  I will give you everything you have ever wanted, and I won’t try to take credit for it.” 

“Owwww, motherfucker!” Stiles yelled, getting tangled in his sheets and falling off his bed.  “Stop it, Scott.  That’s not funny. Don’t make fun of him.” 

“Ok, Mr. Derekcy. Maybe my feelings towards you will change in the passing months to the point where our story is more Pride and Prejudice than Bride of Chucky.” 

“ _Bride of Chucky!_  That’s a terrible reference! Don’t go with Bride of Chucky!” Stiles yelled from his position on the floor where he was obviously flailing.  “Ouch. No.  Scott.  Don’t say that at all.  Retract. Redact. Why would you think my feelings have changed?  Don’t put this online.   _Why am I still stuck in this blanket_?”

Scott gave the camera a raised eyebrow and the most sarcastic look he was capable of.  “I don’t know, Stiles.   _Why **would**  I think that_?” 

“Fuuuuck,” Stiles moaned meaningfully, going limp and allowing his body to fall back against the floor.  “Oh my god.”  For good measure he banged his head against the floor.  “It’s not Pride and Prejudice.  Oh my God.  Am I falling in love with Derek Hale?  Did he pull a Mr. Darcy on me?” 

“I don’t think it’s his move or anything,” Scott retorted.  “Is this actually news to you?  You spent the last 3 weeks talking about how amazing he is, and the 4 weeks before that talking about how great the producer of _Therianthrope_  is, and they’re the same guy. And before that you kept mentioning how he was an ok guy apropos to nothing because you were the only one bringing him up.” 

Stiles whined pitifully and flopped over on the floor, lying there like a starfish.   

“How many of you saw that coming?” Scott asked the camera.  “I know some of you are actively shipping it and have been since the beginning. Believe me, you’re not alone. There’s a real live support group right here in Beacon Hills.  Like… we didn’t actually think Stiles would turn him down the first time.” 

“Stop, Scott don’t make him rehash this.  You know Derek never misses my blog.”

“Allison,” Scott said, looking directly into the camera.  “You owe me $20.” 

x.x.x.

  _“I’m holding in my hand a Lycaon werewolf action figure circa the 1990 promotion of **Lukánthropos** , limited production.  Only about 100 of them were ever made, and I… just received one from Derek Hale with a thank you note.  It’s… I…”_ Stiles looked at the werewolf in his hand.   _“Thank you.  You have no idea what this means.”_

 _“No… I… know that you do, and that makes it mean a lot more.  Derek.”_ Stiles was looking directly into the camera, completely serious. 

Then an edit jumped forward, showing his smiling face as he held up the cover of the next movie he was going to review.

 x.x.x.

 “Hi,” Stiles said, giving the camera this intent look from beneath his eyelashes.  He licked his lips, giving the lens a direct look and held up a DVD. He was smiling, a flirtatious thing that translated over the computer screen.  “I think you’ll enjoy this movie,” he said, and Derek felt like Stiles was talking right to him.  “It’s has extremely witty moments and uses tension rather than gore as a fright tactic. The protagonist tries to be intelligent, but fails, and in my opinion that’s the failing of this movie.  There are some parts you’d really enjoy, though,” he raised his shoulder in a half shrug, glancing up at the camera again. “But maybe not.  You should take my word for it, though.  I think you’ll be surprised, and I don’t just mean by the sex scene.  It made me think of you, and while I don’t mean the sex scene specifically, maybe it did. What would you think of that?” 

Derek didn’t know what to think of Stiles’ message. It felt like Stiles was talking to him, and only him, but he understood enough about the process of filming to know that everyone who watched it probably felt that way.  Derek couldn’t identify a single part of what Stiles had that was for him and him alone, but at the same time he couldn’t identify any of it that wasn’t. It seemed to him that Stiles had done that on purpose, as a way for his followers to feel included in what he was saying, like Stiles was filming the message right to them in that dedicated, flirtatious tone he had adopted. 

And wow.  Just wow. He’d never really experienced Stiles’ charm full force before, and even now it was diluted through the screen and the knowledge he was sharing it with thousands of viewers.  He was glad it was happening that way because if Stiles was actually flirting with him, Derek wasn’t sure he could take it without doing something very forward.

 Stiles wouldn’t thank him for making things even worse between them if he grabbed and kissed him. Stiles would probably consider that the last straw, and Derek would feel terrible on multiple levels, because you didn’t just grab and kiss someone, no matter how intense their come hither eyes were.

 And Stiles’ were intense. Derek didn’t think it was just a matter of being swayed by the fact that he was in love with Stiles, mostly because Cameron from the AV department stopped by his office, made a show of fanning himself, and said: “Whoo, your boy.”

 “It had to be for you,” Allison assured him.  “I’ve never seen him like that, not even when the waiter at the sushi place was really coming on strong and Stiles tried to flirt back.  Who else would he be talking to?”

 “Any one of the people who comment on his vlog regularly.”

“They don’t love it as much as you do!  Stiles responds well to people who can have a discussion with him about what he talks about.”

Ouch.  Derek had never once left a comment for Stiles.  He’d thought about it.  He’d thought of creating a fake account and praising him every time he posted something, saying things to Stiles that Derek would never be able to say as himself.  When it came time to try, though, he realized he didn’t want to say those things to Stiles as anyone other than Derek Hale, which was definitely a catch.

 “Derek,” Allison warned, seeing the expression on his face.  “Why are you self-flagellating?  Do you realize that none of them can have the discussion about horror movies with him that you can?  Do you realize that Stiles knows this, and he doesn’t care about people who blindly love him, he wants discussion.  He wants arguments.  He wants you.” 

“We established that he doesn’t,” Derek pointed out. 

“Months ago!” 

“I don’t think I can go through being turned down again.” 

“Oh, Derek,” Allison answered compassionately, but Derek wasn’t listening.  He knew that her assurances would make him feel better, empower him to maybe take another chance on Stiles, but he didn’t know if that was the direction he was headed in.  He wanted to. He did.  Stiles was worth all the chances in the world, but he didn’t think he could go through all that again and come out the other side of it.

They were in a good place now, he and Stiles.  

A solid place.

x.x.x

Derek was at yet another horror movie panel trying to convince himself that sitting in front of a room full of people analysing his every movement, his every thought, was just part of the process.  It  _was_  just part of the process.  If he was good enough, made enough interesting points or markedly witty rejoinders, it would help promote his movie.

That didn’t make it easier.

Part of him wished Stiles was there.  Stiles had a unique ability to make Derek focus on him rather than on the people in front of him, staring at him.  When Stiles was with him, it felt like people were staring at the two of them, and sure maybe that should bother him, since their relationship was a festering gossip in the small horror movie press sphere, but it didn’t.  It gave Derek an ally in all of this, someone who had his back when he tried to bring questions back around to the movie itself.

Not questions like: “Don’t you think Stiles owes you more respect than what this latest blog post showed?”

“First: Stiles doesn’t owe me anything,” Derek hissed, back straightening and all sense of shyness dissipating like it never existed.  “That isn’t how life works, or at least it isn’t a good way to think.  If you think that he owes me now out of… duty, or worse, you seriously need to re-examine your definition of a healthy relationship. Second: he can flirt with who he wants to on his own blog – I don’t even… do you think there’s a contract somewhere stipulating that while he works for me he can’t flirt with anyone… again, reassess your thought process.  Third, and final: Stiles’ love life has nothing, absolutely nothing to do with  _Therianthrope_.” 

(as an aside, his angry indignant face became a short-lived social justice meme with the caption  _reassess your thought process_. Derek assumed Laura made the gifs herself, but then Stiles appealed to a lot of people outside of the horror industry who watched because they thought he was attractive and charming.) 

x.x.x

“I wasn’t flirting with someone,” Stiles blurted out the moment Derek answered the phone.  “Not just anyone.  You said some really good things today, things I appreciate, but I wouldn’t do that, not now.  Not with someone random.”

“Okay,” Derek answered slowly.

“I’m not sure it is,” Stiles answered.  “But that’s not something I’m up to talking about right now.  More importantly, did you watch the last movie I recommended?”

“Yeah,” Derek answered, a smile crossing his features as a warmth spread through his chest.  “Yes.  I particularly enjoyed the scene with the deer.”

“I thought you might.”  Derek could hear the smile.  “Listen, I got to go.”

“Hold on!” Derek said quickly, wanting to prolong this moment as long as possible.  “We’re going to do some location shots in Beacon Hills next week.  Do you want to get some first-hand experience on set?”

“Yes!  I really need to go, Der, but yes.  Yeah, I’ll be there.  Bye.”  

“Bye,” Derek responded, ending the call.  He felt warm and pleased, happy at nothing in particular, but because of everything Stiles.  It took him a moment to pick out the use of his nickname in everything about Stiles that made him feel amazing.  It was what his sisters called him, but Stiles using it made all the stress he was feeling because of the movie melt into something secondary. 

Beacon Hills couldn’t come soon enough.

x.x.x.

Derek was barely on set, his legs stiff from the long drive up to Beacon Hills following the equipment trailer.  The sun was bright overhead and he squinted against it, pulling his sunglasses out of his hair and shoving them over his eyes.  He took out his phone to text Laura that he was in town, not surprised to find a string of texts from both his sisters that had gone unanswered while he was driving. 

“Derek!” 

It wasn’t strange for someone to need his input, so Derek looked up as he texted, surprised to see Stiles walking towards him. He hadn’t expected for Stiles to arrive before he did, but he wasn’t sure why he hadn’t anticipated it.  Stiles lived in Beacon Hills.

Stiles was more enthusiastic about the movie than a lot of the staff. 

He waved, and Stiles waved back.  

“Hey, just the person I was looking for,” Stiles said with a strange smile.

Derek frowned at him, turning his head to the side as he observed Stiles, from the rigid set of his shoulders to the way he was flexing his hands, both definite signs he wasn’t happy.  “What’s wrong?” he asked.  Maybe someone had given Stiles trouble for being on set?  Derek hoped it was as easy as that.  Derek hoped it wasn’t him that was making Stiles unhappy again.

“I… nothing’s wrong, per se,” Stiles promised. He stopped and looked carefully back at Derek, laughing uneasily.  “It’s just… I need to do this now before I chicken out. You really meant it, didn’t you?  You’re really in love with me?” Stiles said with no lead up.  It certainly wasn’t where Derek thought this conversation was going. 

“Of course I did,” Derek answered, frowning.  He took off his sunglasses, because it seemed unfair to hold this conversation while Stiles couldn’t see half of his expressions. 

Stiles looked at him intently. “Has that changed? Do you still mean it now?” 

“Are you asking me if I’m still in love with you?” Derek asked softly.  Of course Stiles had concerns about working with him.  Derek had been behaving inappropriately recently, sending him presents hoping that maybe Stiles was warming up to him.  He couldn’t do anything but be honest, because Stiles deserved the truth.  “Of course I am.  That doesn’t just disappear.  Maybe it could, with time.  I did try. Your emails made it impossible to think of you in any other way but the one I see you in, but I can try to stay away this time.  If that’s what you want from me.” 

“No,” Stiles said, shaking his head.  “ _No_. Derek,  _fuck_.” He ran his fingers through his hair, turning away and pacing a few steps, before moving back in. He looked frustrated, and Derek felt his hope return. “You’re everything I didn’t know I needed until I realized you were standing right in front of me.   _I turned you down_. I broke what we could have been before it even happened.  I don’t understand how you can just stand there and tell me you’ll try harder to forget me, you should have cut me out immediately  _and you didn’t_.  And that’s perfect.”  Stiles paused, breathing heavily.  Derek was surprised to find that he was doing the opposite.  He was holding his breath waiting for Stiles to finish.  “All I want is for you to give me a chance to make it up to you.” 

Derek had no idea what to say.  There had to be the right words somewhere to tell Stiles how much he wanted that, but how unnecessary it was for Stiles to have to prove himself to Derek.  It seemed almost foolish to suggest, because Derek believed in Stiles without reservation. “There’s nothing to make up.” 

Stiles squinted at him.  “You’re giving me confusing signals.  Is that a yes?” 

That’s when Derek realized what Stiles was asking, what Stiles was trying to say.  Derek had given Stiles a piece of himself so long ago, and Stiles was finally offering a piece of himself back. 

“Of course,” Derek breathed.  He could never say no to Stiles.  He’d been a lost cause the second Stiles first vlog opened with the words:  _Let’s get one thing straight.  My favourite movie will always be Lukánthropos, the cheeky werewolf tale put out by Lycaon Productions in 1990.  I might claim that other movies are my new favourite, but nothing will ever be better than my memories of watching that movie with my parents.  My mother, in particular, loved it.  She loved it in a way that she could never get sick of it, she told me once, right before she died.  So you see, it’ll always be my favourite movie._

 Stiles closed the distance between them immediately, his long fingers curling around Derek’s jaw as he leaned into Derek’s space. His eyes were all Derek could see, and the warmth in them still took him by surprise.  “Thank you,” Stiles said, so close that Derek could feel the words against his mouth until Stiles moved closer still, his lips pressing against Derek’s.

 It was a great first kiss.  Derek felt like he was buzzing with the sensation of Stiles pressed against him, warm against his front, and so gentle with his hands. Derek ran his fingers over Stiles’ spine, and smiled against Stiles’ mouth before pulling back.

 “I didn’t do anything,” Derek said, leaning his forehead against Stiles’.  

 Stiles snorted.  “Derek, you did everything.”

 x.x.x.

  _“So I considered doing this live for about a second because it seemed just and fair and right, but… I didn’t.  Instead I did it the moment I saw him because I couldn’t not say anything.  I saw him and couldn’t wait.  I asked Derek if he wanted still wanted to date me.”_

“I said yes, by the way,” Derek said from off camera.

“You asshole, you were supposed to come in frame for that,” Stiles frowned to his left.

“Like this?” Derek questioned, leaning in and giving Stiles a quick kiss.  He looked smug for a second, and then moved back outside of the frame.

“And there you have it,” Stiles finished.  “The man I’m dating.  Turns out the perfect person for me really is Derek Hale.”

~FINI

 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Really, Derek Hale? (fanart!)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1132855) by [reallyyeahokay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reallyyeahokay/pseuds/reallyyeahokay)




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